XMen: Vigilantes
by imelda72
Summary: Rogue is no longer a mutant, while Scott and Logan still mourn Jean. The X-Men must work through their relationship troubles while hunting a mutant vigilante. An ensemble AU of X3. Rogue/Gambit, Rogue/Wolverine, Jean/Scott, slight Jean/Wolverine
1. Prologue: Jean Grey

**Author's Note: **This story takes place after the war ends in X-3, but as if Jean had never reappeared after X-2. She is still missing as of the start of this fic; everyone she killed in X-3 is therefore alive.

* - * - * - * 

**Prologue: Jean Grey**

- - - - - -

She could feel _everything_.

Most people could see the large things around them; they could hear a small range of sounds, and navigate their way through the world well enough to avoid injury, most of the time. Jean had accepted that level of awareness her entire life. But now, out of necessity, and to save all those she loved most in the world, she had opened her mind. Unhooked the shaky latch that blocked out all of the universe's joyful motion from her conscious mind.

She raised her hand and the floods froze.

She'd gained more than just awareness. She could literally feel every molecule on the planet. She could reach out and touch any of them if she wanted. She could rest her hand on the wall of the Great Pyramid of Giza, or pick up the whole thing and move it to Bangkok if she wanted. She could brush the hair back from Scott's face. She could—

She could lift their jet into the air, hold back the water, keep Nightcrawler from teleporting, and carry on a conversation with her loved ones by controlling the Professor, all at once. So she did.

Jean felt her body turn to flame, a thousand nuclear fusions going off inside her like she was a miniature sun. She maneuvered the plane into safety, and then from fire she became water.


	2. Chapter 1: Marie

**Chapter 1: Marie**

- - - - -

Life sucked.

Marie plucked handfuls of grass from the ground behind the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, and tossed them in a pile grumpily. She'd come back here for comfort, as this was the only home she had and the Professor didn't mind her hanging around. But she didn't belong here now. This was a school for mutants, and Marie was definitely not a mutant anymore.

Not that she fit in better anywhere else. Classes were over at Xavier's, so she could just sort of fade into the background and avoid the professors and the few students still around.

Thank god Bobby wasn't one of them. He'd graduated a few months ago. He and Kitty had a tidy little apartment in Boston, not too far from his parents, with whom he'd reconciled. They were creating a nice life for themselves. The jerks.

Marie's head popped up as the distant rumble of a motorcycle interrupted her thoughts. He was back.

She got to her feet and brushed off her jeans, hoping the tank top she was wearing didn't look too childish. Not that it mattered what she looked like. No one paid attention, least of all Logan. But she couldn't help fiddling with her hair and checking her reflection in the windows on her way back into the school.

Storm raced by her in the hallway, practically knocking her down.

"Sorry, Rogue," she called over her shoulder without stopping. It was the first time Storm had called her Rogue since her return to Xavier's. Storm was clearly distracted. Wondering what it could be, Marie hurried after her. She followed her to Professor Xavier's office, and before Storm shut the door Marie caught a glimpse of all the professors, and Logan, standing in a semi-circle before Xavier's desk. Logan must have brought important news.

Marie tip-toed up to the door and pressed an ear against the dark wood, knowing it was foolhardy. The Professor would probably sense her presence, and she'd be discovered. But he was a funny man, very trusting, and she had a feeling he wouldn't mind if she knew some of their secrets. She strained to hear the conversation.

"There was nothing left of them," Logan said in his low, familiar voice, and Marie could feel her hands tremble at the sound. She couldn't believe that he still affected her this strongly. "I mean, nothing. It was just like you said, Storm, just like last time. One minute the three of them were holding guns on the bank customers, the next—they just disintegrated."

"Were you able to speak personally to any of the witnesses?"

"Yeah I spoke to the bank manager. She was a mutant herself and had heard of the X-Men, so she didn't mind talking to me. She said it was like the robbers were run through a wood chipper right before her eyes, only the pieces were too small even to see." Marie held a hand over her mouth, revolted by the mental image.

"That makes three reported instances of people spontaneously disintegrating, in all cases criminals in the act of committing a crime. We have a mutant vigilante on our hands, my friends. One who is extremely powerful and has little regard for human life."

"And who is also invisible," Logan put in sourly.

"Indeed. Storm, I need you to reach out to our government contacts, and find out what they know. Wolverine, Nightcrawler, I want you to go underground. See if you can get a hint of any major criminal activities being planned. Something where people are in danger—a bank robbery, hijacking, something of that nature. This vigilante has a talent for scoping out these crimes; maybe we can catch him or her at the next one."

Marie heard their footsteps far too late. Nightcrawler never made a sound, of course, but Logan's heavy boot fell to the floor just a second before she saw the doorknob turn. She scrambled back and tried to look like she was just passing by, but failed utterly.

"Marie!" She froze in her tracks. "What do you think you're doing?" Logan growled. She slowly turned towards him, and looked up. His sideburns and beard were shorter; she noticed the change right away. He looked neater than usual. But when her eyes met his, all other thoughts fled. He was looking at her like there was nothing else in the universe that could distract him. He looked at everyone that way, but it always unnerved her.

Especially when those hazel eyes were filled with anger, like now.

"Oh, hey Logan," she said with a stupid, nervous laugh. "Welcome back?"

"Is there a reason you were listening at the door?" Marie noticed Nightcrawler had disappeared; he hated arguments of any kind.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?" she answered, putting a hand on her hip. Sometimes he was too much.

"I can name a dozen damn reasons—hey, what are you even doing here? You don't go to school here anymore."

"School's out, Logan," Marie rolled her eyes, trying to disguise her hurt feelings. "That's not why I'm here. And by the way, you don't have to sound so happy to see me. I just…. I didn't know where else to go." His face softened entirely at that, and Marie thought she might melt from the kindness in his eyes. _That_ was a look that few besides her ever got to see.

"Well, this is as good a place as any. You staying out of trouble?" He started walking and Marie fell into step beside him. This was where she really belonged, she realized, and this was the reason she had returned here—to be by Logan's side again. She peeked up at his still-scruffy face and smiled.

"There isn't a whole lot of trouble to get into when you're not around."

"Yeah, well, that's why I don't want you listening at doors." Marie realized they were walking to the garage. He was already leaving, then. As they entered the enormous attached building, she spotted Nightcrawler perched on top of a sleek, blue two-seater.

"Logan, I'm not a child anymore. You can't block me out all the time."

"Yeah? Call me when you've graduated high school."

"Logan, stop." She grabbed his arm—his bare forearm, with her bare hand. She tried to ignore the thrill it gave her, and tugged sharply. "Would you take me seriously for just one second?"

"I don't know what you want from me," he said plainly, giving her his full attention again. Marie gulped and dropped her hand before speaking.

"I want to go with you. I want to help you."

"Even if you were older, you know I'd have to say no. Without any powers, you'd just get in the way, kid—Marie. I have a job to do; I can't be looking after you, too." He cupped her face in his hand, and Marie closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry." Then he left, zooming away in his sports car with Nightcrawler on his right side, where she should have been.

Rogue had become Marie for Bobby, but he didn't want her. Rogue and Marie would have both died for Logan, but he didn't need either of them.

Somehow, somewhere, she would find the place where she belonged, and people she fit in with. And she wouldn't need her damn powers—if you could even call them that—to do so.


	3. Chapter 2: Cyclops

**Chapter 2: Cyclops**

- - - - -

"That's where you come in, Scott."

Scott wasn't listening. He watched a blue and yellow fish swim laps in a large tank by the Professor's window.

"Scott?"

All that water and yet it breathed. It didn't get crushed by the pressure; it lived its entire life in a liquid world.

"Scott!"

A world that was off-limits to most humans and mutants.

"Scott." A hand landed on his shoulder and jerked him out of his reverie. Scott whirled and looked down to see that the Professor had wheeled over to him. "Scott, where are you?"

"I'm sorry, Professor. You were saying?" Professor Xavier backed up so he could meet eyes easily with him. Scott looked at him through sunglasses; he was getting tired of wearing his visor. He was getting tired of everything.

"I'm afraid you're not totally here with me, Scott. What is distracting you? I haven't seen you this out of sorts since we lost Jean." Scott couldn't hold back a laugh. "What is it?"

"It's… I don't know. I know I've been distracted lately. And yeah, it's for the same reason."

"But Jean died over a year ago."

"I know that. And I thought I'd mostly gotten past this. But," he laughed again, "I guess I didn't deal with it as well as I'd thought."

"Why do you say that? Tell me what's bothering you."

"I've been having these dreams," he began. He looked out the window at the wide, green grounds of the school and wondered how he'd be able to take it when all the students returned. "About the dam." Visions of powerful water bursting through cement walls, of an endless sea of water that covered what had recently been walkable land. Imagined visions of Jean drowning, which his mind was conjuring out of nothing, because he hadn't seen it happen. "When I'm awake, I can't think of anything else."

"How long has this been going on?" Scott could practically see the psychoanalytic wheels spinning in the Professor's head, and once again tried unsuccessfully to hold back inappropriate laughter.

"Weeks. I guess. Longer. A month, maybe?"

"Alright. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep me informed. Let me know if the dreams change, or go away, or if anything else happens."

"Why?"

"Well, I'm concerned for your wellbeing, for one thing. But I also suspect that it may be connected to something bigger."

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet. That's why I need your help. Keep track of the dreams, please."

"Fine," Scott muttered. He wished he hadn't said anything at all. He had foolishly hoped that the Professor would be able to solve his problems, make the dreams go away with some mental tinkering. He hadn't expected that he'd want to use them as a tracking device for some external phenomenon.

"Do you feel well enough to help with this mission? Scott?"

"What?" The Professor looked at him grimly, then, his eyes staring deeply past Scott's lenses. He suspected Professor Xavier was poking around in his brain, and waited to see what he'd come up with.

"Can you be present and alert for the sake of the mission?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Just tell me what I have to do."

"I've told you twice already."

"Really?" Scott blurted out, shocked. He hadn't realized he'd been quite that distant. He would have to make a real effort to stay focused. "I'm ready now, Professor."

"Here's what I need you to do." Even as Professor Xavier spoke, Scott could feel a vision of rushing, wild water pressing on the edges of his mind, trying to get his attention. He firmly pushed them back. The Professor needed him for this mission, and that was more important than anything.

The waters would just have to wait.


	4. Chapter 3: Wolverine

**Chapter 3: Wolverine**

- - - - - -

"The Mafia. I can't believe we're wasting our time following the Mafia. Don't we have any super-villains to take on?"

"The vigilante hasn't gone after any super-villains, Wolverine. He's gone after the regular criminals, mostly human. Now perhaps we should talk about something else, for fear anyone should hear us?" Nightcrawler ducked his head further under the hood he wore and glanced around the restaurant nervously. Logan rolled his eyes.

"We don't even know if he's coming. I don't see why he'd interfere with mob warfare anyway. It's not like either side is innocent." Logan picked up his absurdly small soup spoon, gave up on it, and lifted the whole bowl to his mouth. Over the brim he could see a grey-haired woman at the next table giving him a disgusted look, and he slurped a little more loudly.

"I'm afraid not everyone here is guilty of something," Nightcrawler said in his annoyingly soft voice, pointing at something.

"Yeah, I wouldn't be too sure of that. How do you know—" Logan followed the blue length of his finger, and the soup bowl fell from his hands with a loud clatter.

"What the hell," he started, rising from his chair. In the far corner, by herself in a small booth, sat Rogue—or Marie, as he'd been calling her over the last year. She sat with her profile towards them, that white strand of hair that still pained him to see framing her face. He'd have recognized her anywhere, and now he could even pick out her smell, that flowery, milky soap she used mixed with the faintest bit of sweat. He took a deep breath and tried to keep from getting too angry, but when he stood over her and she looked up, eyes widening, he couldn't help feeling a little gratified by her fear. "Did you think I wouldn't see you following me?"

"Logan! Oh my god, I swear, I'm not following you. What are you doing here?"

"Don't try to pull that one on me, Marie, I know you better than that."

"Then you should know that I respect your wishes and that I wouldn't try to follow you when you'd asked me not to. This is just a—a crazy coincidence."

"Oh please," Logan slid into the booth across from her, glancing around quickly to make sure that nothing was going down yet. He'd have to get her out of here as soon as possible, but first, he wanted her to fess up. "You've always followed me when I told you not to."

"Years ago, when I was a kid, Logan! Damn it, will you never listen to me? I'm not the child you met in that boxing hall."

"Reaching your eighteenth birthday doesn't mean you're not a kid. I've lived long enough to know that it's not a simple matter of numbers."

"Actually that's iexactly/i what it means. For those of us who actually age, Logan, numbers matter a lot." That blow hit home, but he tried not to show it. So she had learned to strike back at him, and hit him where it hurt. If she wasn't a woman yet, she was well on her way.

"Well if you're not following me, then what in the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm, um, meeting someone." He didn't like the way she looked away and blushed, and he narrowed his eyes.

"A boy?"

"Oh, what do you care?" she snapped. He just glared until she sighed and rolled her eyes. "I don't know exactly, alright? I've been getting these messages."

"Messages."

"These letters, from someone who—well, from someone who says they know you. They saw us together on the news a while back, and tracked me down."

"You're meeting a complete stranger who's been sending you anonymous messages about knowing me? You know what kind of past I have, Marie, how can you possibly think this is a good idea?"

"Well I didn't come unarmed," she hissed at him, and she opened her purse briefly so he could see the revolver she'd stowed there. Great. Now she was playing with guns. "And this is a very public place, so don't' tell me I'm being stupid."

"I didn't say—"

"You implied it," she cut in, her Southern accent sharpening in her anger. She slumped in her seat, and he realized that this might be one of those times when Jean would have said he was not being a good guy.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you know what you're doing," he lied, wanting to soothe her feelings. "But I can't help wor—"

"Worrying. I know. When it comes to me, you're always angry that I'm worrying you, or pushing me away so I won't. Do you even want me in your life at all?"

Logan blinked. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? She was in his life, it didn't matter what he wanted. And since she was, he had to make sure she was safe.

"I—"

"This is for my brother!" A gunshot went off and several people, Marie included, screamed. Logan leapt over the table and shoved her down until she crouched underneath it.

"Stay there," he growled, already feeling the adrenaline. Men were jumping up from their tables and pointing guns at one another, but so far no one else had pulled a trigger.

Then, before he could decide how to act, one of the men disappeared. No, he didn't vanish—Logan watched as the man's body vaporized into a million pieces until there was nothing left.

Someone screamed but most people hadn't seen it happen. Then another man vaporized, and everything fell into chaos. Someone let off another shot, there was more screaming, people started running, and yet another man disintegrated into nothingness. The vigilante was here, and he was going after the people with guns.

The people with guns.

"It's the mutant!" a waiter yelled, pointing at Nightcrawler. A fat man in an expensive suit ripped the hood off his face and the humans shouted their anger. Logan had to help him, but he had to make sure Marie was safe first. Screaming in frustration, wanting to help both friends at the same time, he unleashed his claws. It was time for Wolverine to clean this mess up.

He leapt to the floor and reached under the table, using his claws to grab the gun that he just iknew/i she'd have taken out. Marie shrieked as he sent the gun hurtling across the restaurant, praying the safety was on.

"Stay here!" he ordered. "And no guns." Leaving her crouched there in relative safety, he spun around and saw that Nightcrawler had teleported away from his tormentors, and was now perched on top of the chandelier. Someone shot at him and sent glass sprinkling over all of them, but Nightcrawler was already on the enormous fireplace mantle. Unfortunately, his method of teleporting was too similar to the way the mafiosas were disappearing, and now everyone was convinced he was doing it.

"Kurt, get out of here!" Logan roared. He tossed a couple of people aside, throwing them to the wall as he ran towards his friend. One of the men in dark suits raised his gun and aimed at Nightcrawler, but Logan got to him first. He jumped on the man's back and clawed through his forearm, making the man scream in pain and drop the gun. "Kurt, go! Take Marie with you!" Nightcrawler disappeared.

Someone landed on Logan's back but he barely noticed, flinging them off in one movement. He went after the greater threat, the various men who had their guns trained on him. He yelled and jumped into the air, spinning with his arms extended, knocking away at least three of their guns and possibly dissevering someone's hand. He landed on all fours and was about to leap on another gunman when the man shredded into nothingness before his eyes.

So the vigilante was still here.

"Drop your weapons! Drop your weapons and it won't go after you!" Logan yelled, not totally sure he was right. But no one listened anyway, and he felt two sharp stings tear through his shoulder and stomach at the same time as he heard more bangs. He fell to his knees and realized he'd been shot. He looked up and saw a gun aimed at him, again, but once again the man was vaporized. The restaurant was still in pandemonium. Bystanders were crawling towards the door, women were screaming every time someone vanished, the mafiosas were brawling over the few remaining guns, and—

iThwap!/i Logan fell face-first to the floor, his vision going black for a few seconds. Someone had clubbed him over the head from behind, possibly with a chair.

"Kill the mutant!" he heard, and their kicks and strikes were just starting to piss him off when someone else shouted.

"Fire!" in a panicked voice. The chair they were beating him with landed on his back and Logan watched as pair after pair of feet raced towards the door. At least they were finally leaving him be. He shoved the chair off and sat up, feeling the bullet holes in his body closing; both bullets had passed cleanly through. The heat of the fire reached him then, and he looked up to see where it was coming from.

To his surprise he didn't see a raging fire but, instead, an enormous, flaming bird. It was at least eight feet tall with wings that extended five feet in either direction, and it was moving towards him fast. As huge and overwhelming as it was, it was clearly a bird, and Logan watched it in awe. Then he looked closer, at its body, and at where its eyes should have been. He began to make out another form hidden within the flame.

"Jean?" he said faintly.

Before he could move, one of the tables between them exploded, cutting him off in a cloud of smoke. The force of it sent him flying back onto a pile of chairs, which broke beneath his weight and left him dazed. Then someone was pulling him from behind, dragging him out of the restaurant.

"No, wait! Jean!" he cried. But the bird had disappeared and only fire remained, tearing through the restaurant and sending it collapsing to the ground.


	5. Chapter 4: Marie

**Chapter 4: Marie**

- - - - - -

His name was Gambit. She hadn't gotten a chance to speak to him yet, and now that he had found Logan, Marie wasn't sure he'd still want to. But she couldn't help peeking at him from behind the white shield of her hair. He was skinny but well-built, and tall with too-long hair. She liked his looks.

"How did you happen to be at the restaurant just then, Gambit?" the professor asked.

"I had plans to meet a friend." And then there was his accent. Familiar enough that it felt like a homecoming just listening to him, but tinged with that exotic Cajun twang.

"He was there to meet Marie." Marie thought she could listen to the two of them—Logan and Gambit—talk for hours. She loved their voices. But suddenly everyone was looking at her.

"Uhh, yeah, that's right." She still felt nervous around the X-Men, at least when they put her on the spot like this. She stood up, since they were all on their feet around Professor Xavier's desk and she felt like an outcast sitting in the corner chair. She was an outcast, of course, but she didn't want Gambit to know that. "He sent me a message asking to meet him there. I've never met him before in my life, though."

"So you can't speak for him." She shook her head.

"And he specifically asked to meet Marie there, where the vigilante happened to show up," Scott put in, sounding hostile.

"I can speak for him, professor," Logan said, stepping forward slightly. Marie smirked, sure that he had spoken up just to contradict his least favorite person. "At least, he saved my life five years ago. I can say that much."

"Saved it more than once, if I remember rightly." A few people, Marie included, tittered.

"Well then, Gambit, you are welcome to stay for the time being. For now, I want to hear each of your accounts of what happened today." Marie went first, then listened to Nightcrawler, Gambit, and finally Logan describing what they saw.

"And then I looked closer at the bird, and I don't know if spending too much time with you people is driving me nuts or what, but I could swear—"

"A bird, you say," Professor Xavier cut in, startling everyone. "Kurt, Gambit, did either of you see this flame-bird?" They shook their heads.

"I know they didn't see what I did. But I have to tell you—"

"That's alright, Logan. I think we have all the information we need. You can stay behind and fill me in on anything else you recall, but I want to let the others get started on their tasks before it's too late. Storm, Scott, I need you to deal with the police and the press. They've been broadcasting drawings of Kurt and Logan on every news bulletin since this afternoon. You need to convince them that they had nothing to do with this. Kurt, I want you to lay low until they've succeeded; help me keep an eye on the school for now. You can lead the summer session classes tomorrow. And as for you, Marie, I'd appreciate it if you'd get Gambit here settled in. I believe room 200 should be available."

Given their assignments, the X-Men filed out, seeming to forget that Professor Xavier had kept Logan from offering a final piece of information. Marie glanced over her shoulder as she led Gambit out, and saw that Logan was staying behind to say something more to the professor. She'd give anything to be able to hear that conversation, but she could hardly eavesdrop with Gambit around.

"This way," she gestured down the hall and they walked side by side. "What kind of name is Gambit, anyway?"

"It's the kind of name that means you want me on your side in a fight," he looked down at her and smiled. Even though his smile didn't reach his eyes, Marie couldn't resist returning it.

"Why's that?"

"Because I can stack the deck in your favor." In a flash he had whipped a deck of cards out of nowhere and fanned them from one hand to another before her eyes. Then he made them disappear, and Marie laughed in delight.

"I like your tricks, but that's no kind of answer at all to my question." Almost instinctively, her accent thickened while she spoke to him. This time when he smiled, his eyes warmed up, too.

"It's not?" She shook her head. "I guess I may have misunderstood the question. What kind of name is Marie, then?" The smile fell from her face. This wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with someone she'd just met.

"It's the name my mama gave me. Here, we take these stairs to the second floor." She hurried ahead of him, trying to forestall further questions. It didn't work.

"I thought you went by Rogue."

"That was my mutant name."

"Then—oh. Oh, I am sorry. You were hit by one of those so-called cures, weren't you?" Marie stopped abruptly and turned to face Gambit. She looked up and found his deep, grey eyes, glaring to make sure he was listening.

"No. I voluntarily took the cure." He recoiled, his head actually jerking back and his mouth twisting. She had expected as much. "Now you're free to think what you want. I personally don't judge anyone who did or didn't choose to take it, and I certainly don't advocate for anyone to. There's no shame in being a mutant. But everyone's situation is different, and in my case—well, I did what I had to." She turned and continued down the hall, not really caring whether he followed or not.

"What was your situation?"

"That's none of your business. This'll be your room." Marie stopped in front of room 200. The key was in the door so she opened it and led him in. It was a comfortable guest suite with a large bed, a small sofa, and a writing desk, plus a basic but private bathroom. "Extra linens are in that closet, you can control the thermostat here, and this button is to call our housekeeper, Mrs. Arnold. The kitchen is on the first floor and you're free to use it as your own. There's a library down there, too. Welcome to Xavier's school." She headed for the door, wanting to end this awkward exchange as quickly as possible, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Marie, wait." She froze, and he came around to stand in front of her. "You don't need to explain yourself to me," he said gently. She looked up and when their eyes met this time, they exchanged nothing but understanding. His eyes were incredibly deep, and she saw now that they were actually grayish-blue, not grey. Realizing she was gazing at him like a fool, Marie blinked and took a step back, giving a breathless little laugh.

He matched her with a step forward.

"I'd better—"

"How old are you?" Gambit asked, cocking his head slightly. Her eyes were drawn back to his.

"Eighteen. Why?" He smiled, a slow, devious smile that Marie knew right away meant trouble ahead.

"I just wanna make sure I'm not breaking any laws when I do this." He cupped her face in his hand and it felt so, so different from when Logan had done it—but she didn't want to think about Logan just now. Gambit hadn't taken his eyes off of her for a second and it felt like they were locked together somehow. He put his other hand on her waist and pulled her closer, and then he tilted her face up with a soft, delightful pressure, leaned down, and kissed her.

All thoughts of Logan and of everything else flew from her mind. The kiss took her over entirely, and yet they were still staring at each other. It was terrifying, to feel this much pleasure and to be staring into this strange man's eyes, but it was a thrilling, arousing sort of terror and she didn't want to stop. But when he pulled down her lower lip with his thumb and kissed her more deeply, both their eyes fell shut at the same time. Marie lost herself in the feeling of their mouths and tongues connecting, and wrapped her arms around his neck to get even closer.

"Marie?" A sharp, well-known voice cut into her hazy daze, and she jumped back from Gambit. She whirled around to see Logan stalk in through the door they had left open. He did not look happy.

Well, whatever hell she caught for that kiss, it was more than worth it. She looked back at Gambit and flashed him a quick smile, which he returned. Logan looked even less happy. She wondered fleetingly whether he could possibly be jealous, but she dismissed the thought. He was just about to be his regular, over-protective self.

"Gambit, I heard you've been looking for me," he growled, sounding more menacing than curious. "Marie, would you give me and my old _friend_ some privacy? We've got a lot of catching up to do." She glanced one last time at Gambit, looking him over from head to toe. He looked like he could take care of himself, so she made to leave. But just in case, she stopped to hiss a warning at Logan.

"Do. Not. Interfere," she said in a low voice. He just glared at her until she kept going.

He shut the door behind her.

Marie stretched as she awoke and slowly rolled over, her gaze landing on Remy's sleeping face. She watched him for a moment, and then reached out to push the hair back from his forehead and brush her fingers over his eyelashes and eyebrows. He stirred, but didn't wake up until she started kissing him.

The smile he gave her could have broken her heart.

"Morning already?"

"'Fraid so." Remy—Remy LeBeau was Gambit's real name—never got enough sleep. He came in late most nights after hours of gambling and partying, and he hated mornings. Marie went out with him sometimes, but she valued her rest too much to follow him every night.

Some nights, like last night, she didn't see him at all. She would wake up in the morning and there he'd be, lying next to her, his sleeping face looking as angelic as if the thought of gambling had never crossed his mind. She giggled at the thought.

"What're you laughing at?" he mumbled, reaching out for her.

"Nothing," she laughed, leaning away from his reach, just to tease him and wake him all the way up.

"Hey, come here." He sat up and caught her, pulling her closer for another kiss and then lowering her to the bed as they got more heated. "God, Marie, I will never get enough of you," he said into her hair.

She knew he was telling the truth. The two of them burned like a lit match through dry hay. But it was more than that—they owned each other. Three weeks had passed since they'd met, but already she considered him her partner, and wanted to see him every day. She'd been surprised to discover how gentle and kind he was; he'd been the first to say "I love you." She'd laughed him off as crazy, but the following day she found herself telling him the same thing. And that was that. They just fit together.

When they were lying next to each other in bed again, contentedly breathing in sync, Marie turned to look at him.

"You're the reason I took the cure."

"What?" he asked, sounding understandably confused. She'd previously explained what her powers had been, and that she'd taken the mutant cure to be with Bobby.

"You. This. Wanting to love someone, and to feel that love. I never could have had this without the cure." He looked her for a moment, and then gave her a sad smile and a quick kiss.

"I won't say I'm glad you had to make that choice, because I'm not. All I can say is that I'm grateful for what we have, Marie. That's a fact." She pulled his arm around her and snuggled in close.

"It was never this way with Bobby."

"Better not have been," he shot back jokingly, but he sounded a little annoyed. She sometimes forgot how jealous he could be.

Sometimes he wouldn't let her forget.

"You sure you didn't have someone else in mind?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I mean when you got that cure. Were you picturing doing your loving with someone else?"

"Well I wasn't picturing you; I didn't even know you existed."

"But there was someone besides Bobby. You knew even then he wasn't enough for you."

"I did love Bobby. I thought I did, anyway. I didn't really know what love was yet."

"But there was someone else."

"Damn it, Remy, I know you and I know where you're going with this. I do not want to have this fight right now."

"How can I ever be sure—"

"No." She could see that this was tormenting him, but all she could do was keep repeating the same old refrain. She grabbed his chin so he'd look at her, and kissed him after every sentence. "I love you. I want to be with you. I do not want Logan. I love you, and I want this. Do you believe me?" He muttered unintelligibly against her lips. She tightened her grip and pulled his face back. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes." He grabbed her even more firmly and kissed her hard. Crisis averted.

He was reassured, but not convinced. He understood her too well. He couldn't be wholly convinced until she was, and she was still waiting for that to happen.

"OK, we have to go now, don't we?" he asked. She glanced at the clock and nodded.

"We're supposed to be in Professor Xavier's office in twenty minutes. I call the shower!"

"Not if I'm there first." He shot out of bed and they raced to the bathroom, but there was no contest. He shut the door in her face, laughing victoriously.

"You're evil, you know that?" she called over the sound of the shower. She glanced around his room and gathered her clothes. She kept most of her things in room 200 now, and her own, smaller guest room was slowly emptying of her belongings.

She looked at the clock again, and cursed aloud. She didn't have time for this. She went into the bathroom, threw off her clothes, and got in with Remy.

"Guess you can't get enough of me either, can you?" he grinned as she climbed in.

"Move aside, would you? I can't reach the shampoo." As they bathed each other, they talked about the current missions.

"So have you and Logan found any leads on this Gargouille person?"

"Yeah, she was spotted hanging around an abandoned church in downtown Brooklyn. I'm going out there today to see if I can find her."

"By yourself."

"Yes, by myself, sugar. That's how I'm used to doing things."

"The X-Men are a team, you know."

"Well it's a good thing I'm not an X-Man, then, isn't it?"

"So you're going to go by yourself to look for this woman even though she attacked you and shook you up so bad you went looking for Logan for help?"

"Well I'm not going to engage her. I'm just going to try to find her, and watch her, see what she's up to. I can be sneaky when it's called for."

"Remy, you might think about bringing Storm. She blends in well but she can unleash some serious firepower if Gargouille spots you."

"I guess I'll see what the Professor thinks. He may need her for something else today, like tracking down that vigilante."

"The vigilante hasn't done anything for the past few weeks, though, has he?"

"Nothing. Which is a damn nuisance because it means that Nightcrawler and Logan still can't go out anywhere." Marie snorted.

"Like that'd stop Logan. I don't think he's spent one full day at the school. He's not very good at lying low. It's harder for Kurt, though, as he's so recognizable."

"So what'll you be doing today?"

"Me? Nothing, same as always. Standing by the phones in case anyone needs help. Making sure the underground facilities are clean. The real glamorous stuff."

"It's important, even if it's not glamorous. I think you're to be admired for sticking around and helping even though you've lost your powers."

"These are still my people," Marie said with a shrug, trying to hide how much his words moved her. They both left the shower and got dressed, going downstairs to see what the Professor had in store for them that day.


	6. Chapter 5: Nightcrawler

**Chapter 5**

- - - - - - -

Kurt teleported there in stages. On a normal day he would have just taken public transportation, as teleporting somewhere new was a long, drawn-out hassle. He plotted out the furthest jump he could manage from the school, and from there he could only teleport to places within sight. It took him three hours to get from Xavier's school to the apartment block in Bushwick, Brooklyn where he was supposed to meet her.

Public transportation would have taken half the time, but it was verboten to him, for now. Everyone in NYC knew his face and they would have tried to cart him off to jail in an instant. When that failed, they would have attacked him. He knew. It had happened many times before. Looking the way he did, it didn't take much for the humans to turn on him.

Kurt landed on top of an abandoned garage and looked across the street. 97 Stanhope Street was a five-story, rectangular red building that looked like it had once been a warehouse. Peering into some of the glowing windows he could see that the space contained several loft apartments, all furnished. Wondering what was in store for him, he took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket to read one more time.

_Nightcrawler,_

_You told me once that if you had my powers, you would always walk incognito among the humans. If you still cling to this desire, come see me at 97 Stanhope St., apt 3, in Brooklyn at 9pm on Tuesday. I may be able to help you, if you can accept the aid of a former enemy._

_RD_

So Mystique was going by her human name, Raven Darkholme, now that she had lost her powers. Kurt knew this might be a trap, and feared she might try to shoot him with the cure and rob him of his powers. But he couldn't resist her invitation. If she knew of a way he could disguise himself, he had to find out.

He teleported in front of the building's main door and rang the buzzer for the third floor. She buzzed him in right away and he entered the building; the hallways were grey and narrow, and he eschewed the ill-maintained elevator for the grimy stairs. There were no windows in the halls, and the flickering fluorescent lights made it feel even more claustrophobic. He was glad tight spaces had never been a problem for him.

There was only one door on the third floor, and Kurt hesitated for just a moment before knocking. Perhaps he was being monumentally foolish; he would find out soon enough.

"You came." The door opened on a frighteningly beautiful, tall blonde woman in a cobalt-colored dress. Kurt had forgotten just how aggressive her beauty was. In her human form her blue eyes and red lips stood out dramatically from her pale skin, and her hair was long and wavy. He had been partial to her blue skin, for obvious reasons, but there was no denying her conventional, human good looks either.

He ducked his head and took a deep breath before speaking, annoyed with his own shyness and trying not to show it.

"Yes. Your letter was most convincing."

"Come in, Nightcrawler."

"Thank you." He stepped past her, feeling even more nervous as he saw how much she towered over him—by three or four inches, at least. He glanced around the apartment then. It was a large loft, much more pleasant than the building's hallways. The ceilings were at least 12 feet high and crossed with metal beams; plenty of places for him to retreat if trouble started. The kitchen was on the left side of the large room, set off by a long, thin dining table ringed with chairs. On the right, closer to the wall of windows, was a sitting area with a sleek, white leather sofa and chaise longue.

Towards the back of the room was a serious fitness area. Weight machines, standing and hanging punching bags, and a cabinet with one door open to reveal an impressive array of weapons. Kurt's eyes lingered on the nunchucks, swords, and guns—and those were just the ones he could see. Although it put him on his guard, he was glad to see that while Mystique had turned human, she had not been tamed.

"You can sit down if you want," she gestured towards the couch. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No," he said awkwardly, not used to her being accommodating. One corner of her mouth tilted up.

"I promise I won't poison you, if that's what you're thinking." She pulled open the fridge and took out two beer bottles, tossing one to him and opening the other for herself. He did the same and took a drink, despite his distaste for American beer. "Sit down, please." He did and she sat on the chaise, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees to look at him. "I've seen your face all over the human news. Did you really kill all those mafiosos?"

"Of course not!"

"I didn't think so. Shame. I hoped that Xavier was getting more serious about fighting his enemies. So the X-Men have nothing to do with the disappearances that everyone's talking about?"

"No, nothing. And they are not disappearances. I was there at that restaurant, which is why the humans think I had something to do with it. While I was there I saw that the men didn't just disappear—they were vaporized. Shredded. It was most disturbing." Mystique—or rather, Raven's eyes widened, but she didn't look disturbed. She looked excited.

"Did you see the mutant who did it? They must be extremely powerful, level 4 at least."

"I saw no one. That is the strangest part, and that is why the humans assumed that Wolverine and I, as the only visible mutants, must have been responsible. No one has actually seen this vigilante."

"Xavier sent you there to track him down, didn't he?"

"Raven, if you don't mind my saying, I did not realize you invited me here to pump me for information. I see no reason why I should continue answering your questions." She sat back and put the beer down purposefully, then looked at him very seriously.

"No, you wouldn't. But perhaps what I have for you will change your mind. Kurt, I once believed that mutants shouldn't be ashamed to show their true faces when they walk among the humans."

"You no longer believe this?"

"I do. But I now understand that the humans will never accept mutants. I was forced to become human and I have spent more time with them than I would like. If you want to accomplish anything while the humans are in power, then you have to look like them."

"So, Raven, what does this have to do with me?"

"I have something for you." She reached into a small pocket and withdrew a ring, placing it down on the coffee table. Kurt couldn't take his eyes off of it. The band was fat and silver, and at the top it had a pyramid etched deeply into the metal.

"What is that?"

"It's a ring that can make all your dreams come true." He looked back at her, trying to read her face, but she was as inscrutable as ever.

"And why would you want to do such a thing for me?"

"Because I need a friend, Nightcrawler. I am on the outside of the mutant world, and I want back in. I may not have my powers, but I can still fight. I can hold my own," she gestured back at her training area, or maybe at her cabinet of weapons. "And I suspect that you are one of the few mutants who would not mind being friends with a human."

"Charles Xavier would not—"

"Charles Xavier will never trust me. Never. But you and I—we understand each other, Kurt. We both know what it is to be different, and to want to be accepted for what we are. That's why I'm giving you this ring, because it will help you gain acceptance without losing yourself." She looked down at the ring, sadly, and Kurt realized that she must dream of having his problems. She had lost herself.

"What does the ring do?"

"As long as you wear this ring, you will look human."

"Really?"

"This ring turns you into your human form for as long as you have it on. You will still have your powers, but you will look as if you had been born human."

"Impossible." He fixed his eyes on the ring again. "How does it work?"

"I've no idea."

"Where did you get it?"

"Why don't you try it on?"

"Because I do not trust you," he said frankly.

"No, not yet. I would demonstrate for you myself, but as a human the ring does nothing to me. If you'll wait here, I can bring in someone who can help." She stood and walked back towards a door in the back of the room. Kurt jumped to his feet, shocked that someone else was in the apartment and wondering what was about to happen.

She came back out and was followed by what Kurt thought at first was a child. When they walked closer he saw that the person was just extremely short, gray of skin, and on top of that had horns curving back from her forehead, claws, and fleshy wings folded behind her back.

"Gargouille!" he hissed, realizing who it was. "You are Gargouille!"

"I am," she said in a low, crackly voice. "What of it?"

"You attacked Gambit! You are the one they're looking—" Kurt cut himself off, remembering too late that he should give them as little information as possible.

"So Remy has taken up with the X-Men, has he?" Gargouille said scornfully. "And I did no worse to him than he deserved. He was walking around with those rings without a clue as to what they really were."

"Gambit had the ring? And there was more than one?" Sensing that Raven had not brought Gargouille out to attack him, Kurt sat back down on the sofa. They followed suit.

"There are three of those rings in existence. They were created years ago by the Morlocks, a group of mutants who lived in the sewers and abandoned tunnels of this city. These rings are what caused the Morlocks to break up. Since there were only three, they fought over them and ultimately, through their sheer stupidity, lost all of them."

"How did Gambit get them?"

"How does that idiot get anything? He won them, gambling. I saw him win them along with a pile of other jewelry. He had no idea that the rings were special. So when he left that bar in Tennessee, I followed him and managed to recover two of them."

"He says you tried to kill him." She scoffed.

"I wouldn't try to kill him; he is an old friend. But he did fight back a little harder than I expected." Kurt said nothing to this, but found it strange that Gambit hadn't mentioned that Gargouille was a friend of his.

"Gargouille is going to try on the ring, so you can see that it is harmless. Gargouille, if you don't mind?" Gargouille hopped down from the sofa and picked up the ring, slipping it easily onto her thumb.

Kurt watched in astonishment as she grew a foot taller, her skin color changed, her horns receded, and her wings disappeared. Within 5 seconds the gargoyle had disappeared and a short, black woman with close-cut hair and slanted eyes stood before him. She looked entirely human; even her claws were gone.

"Sometimes that which we see with our own eyes is the hardest to believe," Kurt whispered to himself, standing up slowly as he peered at Gargouille in astonishment. "You look like a human."

"That's the idea."

"But do you still have your powers? Or does the ring rob you of those?"

"I can't fly. Anything that depended on my physical form doesn't carry through. But the powers I developed at puberty? Speed, strength, acute hearing and vision, and so on? Still got 'em." To prove it, she darted around the room faster than Kurt's eyes could follow, and then picked up the sofa with him sitting on it. "The ring is a dream come true," she said when she sat down next to him, still wearing the ring.

"And it is impermanent?" He had purposely chosen not to take the cure because his mutant form was a part of his identity. He didn't want any ring to take that from him.

"Only lasts as long as you wear it." Gargouille pulled the ring from her finger and Kurt watched her morph back into her grey, four-foot-tall self. She tossed the ring at him and he caught it. "It's yours if you want it, Nightcrawler."

"I would like to accept. But my concern is that you will expect something from me in return." He turned to face Raven again, who he sensed was in charge.

"We might. But we won't ask you anything you're not willing to give, because what would be the point? You'd just betray us. I told you, Nightcrawler, I'm looking for a friend, and I think you and I can trust each other. Giving you the ring is just a gesture to begin that friendship."

"May I try it on?" Kurt asked, convinced by the frankness in her voice.

"It's yours," she shrugged. "There's a mirror over there." Kurt jumped up and walked over to the mirror on the far wall, and, staring at his reflection, he slid on the heavy ring. He closed his eyes as his body began to change, not willing to watch the distortions twisting his form. He gave it a few seconds and then opened his eyes, and nearly screamed in surprise.

He was human. Caucasian, with short, dirty-blonde hair mixed with too many grey strands. He looked a little old for a man in his forties, with lines in his forehead and bracketing his mouth. His eyes were light brown.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Holy Mary, Mother of God," Kurt repeated the Hail Mary to himself over and over as he stared at his own form, twisting and turning to see different angles. He took off his jacket and looked down at his pale, hairy arms. The tattoos all over his body were the only part of himself that he recognized. He could walk down the street and no one would have any idea he was a mutant.

Raven walked up behind him then.

"This is what you'd look like as a human. Do you prefer it?"

"I—I do not know. The person in the mirror is not me, but he is someone I longed to be when I was younger."

"Well now you can be both." Kurt turned to her and held out his hand. She shook it.

"Thank you, Raven. If this is a gift freely given, then in the spirit of our new friendship, I accept it."

"You're welcome."

"I had better be getting back to the school soon, unless there is anything else?"

"No, nothing else." They started walking back towards the door, and he paused by the sofa to shake Gargouille's hand. The diminutive woman gave him an ugly grin.

"Enjoy your new toy."

"I will put it to good use. Thank you both. Raven, I look forward to the next time we meet." He smiled at her. She smiled in return, but as she nodded he saw her eyes flash yellow. "Merciful heavens!" he cried, taking a step back.

"What?"

"Your eyes. They—they were just yellow a moment ago."

"That's impossible!" She turned to look down at Gargouille.

"I didn't see anything," she said.

"Of course not," Raven said, but as she spoke her eyes flashed yellow again. Gargouille gasped.

"Raven, your hand!" She pointed at Raven's left hand, where a tiny patch of blue was slowly expanding on the back of her palm. She stared at it for a good ten seconds, and then abruptly lifted her head to look at Kurt. The expression in her eyes had become dangerous, and he took a step back.

"Grab him!" she hissed, and Gargouille leapt at him. Raven's glare had given him enough warning, though, and Kurt teleported up to one of the beams that lined the ceiling. He landed on his feet, crouching, but Gargouille was already up there, waiting for him on another beam.

"She told me you'd come here first if trouble arose," she gloated. Kurt tried to teleport again but his balance was much worse in this human form, and he instinctively steadied himself. That hesitation was all Gargouille needed, and she leapt again and caught him.

With her arms wrapped so tightly around him, Kurt would take her along if he teleported. He struggled but she was incredibly strong, and he could hardly even breathe in her grip. She jumped from the beam, expanded her large wings, and flew them to the ground.

Raven—Mystique—was waiting for them. She stabbed Kurt in the arm with a needle, and with his next breath he found himself falling from consciousness.

"I'm sorry," Mystique said, and then the world faded away.


	7. Chapter 6: Cyclops

**Chapter 6**

- - - - - - -

Jean was just ahead of him, standing at the edge of the cliff. He knew this place; he used to take her here for picnic dates and to watch the sunset. It was a little round lookout point beside the Hudson, just off of a short street that no one ever entered. There was one bench and the rest of the small area was open grass. The view was incredible at sunset, with the sinking sun turning the sky peach and orange and the water into dark glass. He hadn't been here since she'd died.

But she'd brought him here tonight. Scott stood behind the bench and watched her. He couldn't tell what she was looking at—the river? The sky? The houses that peppered the opposite shore?

"Jean." She either ignored him or didn't hear, and just kept staring out towards the horizon. Suddenly she took a step forward, and then another, until her toes peeped over the cliff's edge. Scott began to sweat with nervousness. "Jean, be careful, please! You could fall." He wanted to go to her but the bench kept him back; no matter where he moved, left or right, it stayed in front of him. "Jean!" He couldn't reach her.

"No!" Scott cried out in horror as Jean raised her arms until she formed a cross, closed her eyes, and fell forward. She disappeared.

The last thing he heard before waking up was the distant call of her voice from the river. "Help me!"

He awoke sitting straight up, gasping for breath. It was a dream. Yet another dream.

For the past two weeks he'd watched Jean die every night, and it was driving him crazy.

"If I'm not crazy already," he muttered to himself, taking off his mirrored sleeping mask and rubbing his eyes. Keeping his eyes shut he fumbled on the bedside table for his glasses and put them on.

He wanted to talk to the professor about these dreams, which had come out of nowhere. But the professor was already worried about him. He wanted to pull Scott off the X-Men missions, and Scott couldn't let that happen. He simply had to pull it together so he could pull his weight.

Scott got dressed and futilely tried to block the images of Jean dying from replaying in his head. Falling off a cliff, exploding into pieces, decapitated, buried alive, shot, and over and over again, drowning. Those were the worst because he always saw her struggling in the water but could never save her.

And always, just after she died, she called out to him—"Help me!"

"Scott?" He looked up from tying his shoes and his eyes widened. Jean stood in front of him.

"What are you doing in my bedroom?" he asked inanely, and then laughed at himself. "What am I talking about? I'm hallucinating. Hi, Jean." He waved cheerfully.

Two tears rolled down her cheeks, and Scott dropped his hand.

"I'm really here, Scott. And I need your help."

"This isn't real. You're dead." And although she looked insubstantial, and he could see the wood paneling of the wall through her body, Jean marched forward and slapped him in the face. "Ow!"

"I don't have much time. She'll notice I'm gone if I stay too long. I need your help. You need to come get me."

"Then… you're alive?"

"I never died. I've just changed. But I'll be gone forever and she'll be free to destroy the world if that happens."

"She who? Who are you-?"

"_Me_, Scott. You need to come get me. You'll find me there." She backed away from him and her body rippled, fading slowly.

"Wait! Find you where?"

"By the river—"and she was gone. Scott couldn't move; he felt his heart pounding in his chest and tried to recover from his shock. What the hell just happened?

Still dazed, he held a hand to his cheek. He could feel the sting of where she'd slapped him, and in the mirror above his dresser he could see a red mark on his cheek. This time it hadn't been a dream. Jean was alive, and she'd been sending him messages for weeks. Longer, maybe. How could he have been so dense?

He forgot all about Xavier's meeting. Scott put on his visor, clipped on a weapon belt, and grabbed his car keys, then hurried to the garage. Luckily no one saw him, because this couldn't be a team effort. For one, no one would believe him. But more importantly, Jean had called out to _him_. If she'd wanted the X-Men, she would have contacted Professor Xavier.

Scott sped towards the highway in his Maserati, and made it to his and Jean's old picnic spot faster than ever. He pulled over on the short back road before reaching the lookout, wanting to arrive quietly on foot. When he reached the circle, however, she wasn't there. He looked around, back at the line of trees beyond the road, and he even looked over the cliff's edge down to the water, but Jean wasn't there. Frustrated and confused, Scott sat down on the bench and dropped his head into his hands.

Had he hallucinated after all? He didn't think so. He didn't think he was that far gone. Jean had been in his room, she had touched him—hit him—and she wanted him to find her here, where they had come for sunset picnics.

Scott sat up straight, realizing his mistake. Sunset! She would be here at sunset. And he would wait for her. He settled in and prepared for several hours of waiting.

The sun was brushing the horizon, and Jean still hadn't shown. Scott stood up from his seat to stretch his legs for the hundredth time that day. He strolled up to the cliff's edge, turned around and strolled around the grass. He was standing behind the bench when he felt her.

Heat. The heat built up slowly until Scott started to sweat, and that's when he saw the fire. Not a fire, he realized—it was a great, flaming bird rising up slowly over the cliff, casting an unearthly orange glow on everything in sight. Scott backed up, horrified, but he knew without a doubt that it was Jean. He could see her, after all—she was there in the body of the bird, her arms extending into wings and her face turned upward.

"Jean!" He screamed. He wanted to move forward but the force of the fire kept him back. He raised a hand to protect his face and crouched as he moved forward. "Jean! Can you hear me? I'm here!" The woman inside the bird turned her head and she looked down towards Scott.

A second later, the bird and the fire had disappeared, and a naked woman with long, neon red hair crouched on the ground in front of him. Scott leaped over the bench and ran over to her, putting his arms around her.

"Jean, are you alright? It's Scott. I'm here." She looked up at him and he nearly jumped in surprise. Her eyes seemed unstable somehow and he realized her eye color was changing rapidly between her normal brown and a deep, endless black that seeped past her irises.

"Scott?" she said faintly. He wasn't sure if she could see him; her eyes weren't focused on anything and she was shaking as if weak, or terrified. He looked closely at her face and saw that her skin was straining, her veins popping as if she was struggling desperately to keep something in. "Scott, you have to kill me."

"What?"

"Scott, I can't control it. My power. She has control and she is so angry…she just wants to hurt everyone."

"Who? Who is controlling you, Jean?"

"The Phoenix. She's inside me, and she's taking over. If you don't kill me now then she won't ever stop—auuugghhhh!" She screamed as her eyes turned black again and with unimaginable force she shoved Scott back, sending him flying into the bench and breaking it to pieces. Her skin began to glow and her rose as if pulled by electricity, but within a few seconds she had controlled the reaction and she looked human again. Scott hurried back over to her, but this time stood back.

"Jean, tell me how to help you." She leapt up and threw her arms around his body, sliding to her knees and pressing her face against his stomach.

"Please, please. Kill me. It's the only way—hurry! Oh god, hurry, she's coming back!" She looked up at him then, her brown eyes starting to waver, and Scott knew he couldn't deny her.

But he couldn't hurt her, either.

He got to his knees and pulled her closer into an affectionate embrace.

"I love you," he whispered into the wild, over-long hair that was starting to rise again. Holding her head to his chest, Scott pulled a needle out of his weapons belt and stabbed her in the side with it. She reared back in fury, the black eyes instantly taking over and her whole body starting to change. But the sedative was too much for her— he had given her several doses, a nearly lethal amount. She screamed her rage at Scott with the voice of a hundred murdered souls, and then she collapsed.


	8. Chapter 7: Jean Grey

**Chapter 7**

- - - - - - -

"Don't look so grim, Scott. You didn't kill me, after all." She looked at every inch of his face, a different sort of seeing. His jaw clenched tightly and his brow furrowed into his visor. Dear, serious Scott.

"I couldn't do what you asked me to, Jean. How could you ever think I would?"

"I miscalculated," she acknowledged. "But it's a good thing, isn't it? Professor Xavier helped me defeat the Phoenix. She's in here still, but I have control of her now." As soon as she'd arrived at the school's infirmary, the Professor had entered her mind and found her. Together, combining their tremendous mental abilities, they had attacked the Phoenix until she was weak and tiny. Then Jean had attached bits of herself to wherever they could find traces of the Phoenix's presence. Locking her away wouldn't work, because she'd only grow in secret again. This way Jean could track everything the Phoenix felt and thought and desired, and she could respond. Even harness her anger, if necessary.

From now on, she would always have to manage her dual personality.

"I can't thank you enough, Scott, for bringing me to the Professor. When I was trapped with the Phoenix, she was just so strong—I didn't think anyone or anything could defeat her. But you believe the Professor can do anything, can't you?" she smiled fondly at him again. "And you were right. How is he doing, by the way?"

"He's sleeping. He's only woken up once since helping you beat the Phoenix. He looks bad, but he'll get better. I'm more concerned about you. How are you feeling?"

"I feel good. Better. I wouldn't have woken up if I didn't feel ready to start moving." She sat up then, pushing the sheet down to her waist. Her hair was braided and she pulled the long, tight braid in front of her body to undo it.

"The hair color stayed."

"You like it?" Jean asked, surprised. Scott shrugged shyly. "Maybe I'll keep it. I have to thank Storm for combing it and braiding it for me; that was kind of her."

"How did you know it was Storm?"

"I know everything. Oh, don't look so horrified," she laughed. "It _feels_ like I know everything, I guess. Everything current, anyway; I can hardly predict the future or recover what's past. But I know—I know what you're thinking right now, Scott, and that you're scared for me. Even of me, a little bit. I know that Storm is leading a drama class right now on the front lawn. That's strange. Shouldn't Kurt—oh. Kurt's missing? What happened?"

"We have no idea. He disappeared four days ago and we've been searching for him. But Jean, I don't want you to tire yourself or strain yourself—" She laughed lightly and stroked Scott's jaw. She'd missed that jawline.

"It's no strain, Scott. I don't have to look for these things; I know them already. I just have to name the knowledge inside of me."

"Do you know where Kurt is, then?" She closed her eyes for a second. For some reason, Kurt was hiding from her.

"He's unconscious. I can sense his mind but—oh, it's odd. He's wrapped in something, like a rope, maybe? It's keeping me from—from pinning down, exactly—_aughh_," she held a hand to her head, feeling a sudden pain, and had to stop focusing on Kurt.

"Jean, look at me." She did. "I told you not to strain yourself. You just woke up, and you're still getting used to your new powers. Please, give it some time. Please?"

"Alright," she nodded. "Someone has covered Kurt in some material that blocks psionic detection. Don't let the Professor use Cerebro to search; it might kill him. It's very powerful, but I expect I'll be able to get past it once I'm feeling a little stronger."

Scott didn't look happy, but that hardly mattered. She would do what had to be done.


	9. Chapter 8: Wolverine

**Chapter 8**

- - - - - - -

"You're different."

"In some ways." Jean gave him a sideways glance and a smile. "Mostly just the hair."

"I don't like it." She laughed merrily.

"No, you wouldn't. Scott likes my hair this way, so of course you would hate it."

"It just doesn't seem like you."

"But I'm not the same as I once was. You said that yourself."

"And you said it was just the hair."

"We're talking in circles, Logan," she said in annoyance, finally looking away. They were crouched atop an abandoned building in East New York, way out in Brooklyn. Down on the ground below them people were slowly milling into a vacant lot; the lot was surrounded on three sides by derelict buildings and was overgrown with pale grass and weeds; piles of junk had amassed and deteriorated over time, leaving the space filthy and unattractive. All in all, it was not a bad spot to do illicit things.

That's what brought them there, of course. Professor Xavier had sent him and Jean to follow a couple of petty mutant criminals who he suspected were working for some big-shot. It was a generic do-gooder job, keeping an eye on the kinds of people Logan used to live among. The kind of person he used to be, actually. He wasn't sure he liked this new, reformed version of himself.

Jean looked more badass than he did, now. He definitely didn't like that, and it was easier to give her a hard time than to come down on himself.

"You're supposed to be all-powerful now, right?"

"No, not even _close_! It's just—"

"So why don't you know who this big-shot is? Can't you just sense it or something?"

"I should be able to. The fact that I can't is part of the reason the professor is so worried about this. He also thinks—and I have to agree with him—that this person might be connected to whoever kidnapped Kurt. The ability to evade psionic detection is a rare mutant power, and it's an even rarer technology."

"In other words, this guy could be a big problem." Jean nodded. Logan looked down on the ever-growing crowd, which now numbered over 100 people. The criminals mostly wore hoods and big jackets, despite the warm weather, which made it hard to gauge what kind of mutants they could be dealing with here. They were mostly quiet; only a soft thread of whispers wove its way among the group. They all seemed controlled by their anticipation, earnestly eager to see their leader. They didn't have long to wait.

Logan saw it first, the red-cloaked figure floating down from the clouds, as if he had just teleported in. Logan nudged Jean and pointed, and as the figure descended—like he thought he was Jesus returning to Earth—the people in the crowd began to point. They fell totally silent, watching in reverence as the man landed on top of an over-turned dumpster on one side of the lot. They watched the hooded mutant reach out to the crowd.

"My friends," he said in a deep, rich voice that carried well. "It is good of you to welcome me back." With elegant, deliberate movements, he pushed back his hood.

"Holy shit."

"It's Magneto."

"And he can fly. I guess he found a way to get his powers back."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. But we're going to have to find out."

"At least we know how he was able to block my psionic powers."

"Yeah, he's still got that pretty little helmet of his."

"We should go and tell the Professor right away. He needs to know that Magneto is back and in power."

"I want to hear what he has to say first."

"Logan—"

"You go, if you want," he said, not looking at her. As a rule he didn't like saying no to Jean, but he had to see this through.

"I thought you finally understood the 'team' concept, Logan."

"I do. Stay with me, then. We need to find out what Magneto's up to, and how he got his powers back." He wondered how Marie would react when she found out. Making the decision once had been hard enough for her. On the other hand, she was so happy these days with her blasted boyfriend that she probably wouldn't even be tempted.

"You all know that our attack on the upstate military base was a success. The human forces there were rendered totally helpless and we secured a huge supply of weapons, which I am keeping in a safe location. And best of all, they have no idea the attack was carried out by mutants. Well done, my friends!" He raised his arms and the silent crowd erupted in cheers. They fell quiet again as soon as he lowered his arms.

Magneto went on for a while longer about the importance of mutant solidarity, the way humans had oppressed them for so long; the same old crap he'd spewed a year ago. Logan half tuned out until Magneto caught his attention again.

"Be off, my friends! Find all the weapons you can, and take them by any means necessary. Leave the humans defenseless! They will fall before our assault on the city council. We will make New York City a Mutant City!" They cheered louder than ever at that, so loud that Logan wondered why they had bothered with all the secrecy. "But remember—minimize the use of your powers until our day arrives. We want to take the humans by surprise, give them no idea that another mutant uprising is imminent. They think they neutered our community with their so-called 'cure.' In one week, they will learn better.

"I and many of you are proof that being a mutant is not a disease, that you cannot suppress our true natures, and that any 'cure' they come up with can only be temporary. They robbed us of our powers but our genes were stronger than their medicine. Our powers are coming back, as strong as they ever were. They cannot stop the mutants! They cannot put us down! We will rise again, greater than before, and we will make this city our own!" More cheers, and on this high note Magneto lifted his hood and crossed his arms. He floated up towards the sky on his tiny metal platform, rising higher and higher until he vanished from sight. As he went, the crowd chanted "Mutant Power!" in unison, their fists pounding the air.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Logan finally muttered to Jean. She flew them—because she could fly, now—ten blocks away to the car, and Logan drove them towards I-678.

"The attacks are beginning _now_. I can see them," Jean said, sounding worried.

"We'll be back soon enough."

"Too late to save some."

"Can't you do anything about it from here?"

"No, I…. Yes. I can." She closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. Logan watched her closely, neglecting the road more than he probably should. Jean was mostly still but he could see her eyes moving beneath the lids, as if she were dreaming. Her skin was changing, too—it glowed a little, and seemed to be moving or crawling or something, her veins popping in and out of sight. Her hair, too, escaped from its ponytail and gyrated in the air.

Something was happening inside of her, that was clear, but he could not follow. She didn't need his help anyway.

It was several minutes before she opened her eyes and sat up. Logan watched her skin turn smooth and pale again. When she looked at him he was surprised that her irises had gone black and were slowly returning to their normal blue. She smiled at him, and Logan tried not to feel gutted. He couldn't help smiling back, but tightened his mouth as soon as he could. He never smiled.

"Catch any bad guys?"

"Yes. There were two groups of mutants that hurried off right after the gathering. One of them tried to hold up a shooting range, but I scattered them. The other—"

"You scattered them? What does that mean?"

"I literally scattered them. I flung the mutants in different directions halfway across the borough. There'll be some injuries, but they'll survive." Logan actually laughed. This new Jean was something else.

"And the other group?"

"They had picked up a stock of weapons and were on their way to attack a police station. A _police_ station. I set the police officers inside and outside of the station, guns drawn and ready for the mutants. They captured them easily. Especially once the mutants began clumsily dropping their guns."

"I can't believe you can do that. The police didn't find it strange when you were picking them up and moving them around?"

"Oh, I didn't move them physically. I just suggested to all of them that there might be an attack coming, and they might want to be ready for it."

"Whoa." That was serious mind control. She could easily do the same to him, and he'd never even know it. Good thing he trusted her. Jean Grey was probably the only person in the world he would trust with that much power.

Then again, they'd never settled the question of whether she was still Jean Grey.

"Why don't you just find everyone who was at that rally and lock them up somewhere? Wouldn't that solve all our problems?"

"I bet I could find most of them—the ones that haven't gotten too far from the lot yet. But I don't know if Professor Xavier would like me doing that."

"Because they haven't done anything wrong yet?"

"They may not be planning to do anything at all. We were at that rally, after all. Maybe there were others there just keeping an eye on things."

"Couldn't you just read their minds and find out?"

"Maybe. But maybe there are mutants who are planning to commit a crime but won't end up doing it. How can we know? It isn't right to preemptively detain anyone. And then, the professor might also disapprove of the invasion of privacy inherent in reading someone's mind."

"How would _you_ feel about doing it?"

"I don't think of it the same way he does. It's hard for me _not_ to read minds. I know how you think and feel right now, and that's how it is for anyone I talk to. To me it's the same as looking at someone, or hearing them speak—is that an invasion of privacy?"

"But if you read the minds of those other mutants, you'd be doing it on purpose. Going out of your way to do it."

"I suppose. Professor Xavier sees it that way. And I need his guidance in all of this; it's all still so new to me." They drove in silence after that, though Logan couldn't help but think about how it wasn't silent for her—she heard all of his thoughts.

Knowing that was enough to send his mind in all sorts of directions, and he struggled to keep his thoughts from going to bad, sexy places. _Don't think it, don't think it, don't think it._

Jean giggled. In all his life Logan had never once blushed, but he felt his face grow warm.

"Go ahead and think it, Logan. You won't offend me."

"I might offend my own ego."

"Yes. But I—I do know how you feel. It's not going to shock me." He needed to change the subject, and fast.

"Doesn't it get to be too much? Knowing everything, hearing everything? Don't you ever just want quiet?"

"But it's never quiet. Not for me, but not for anyone else either. Even before I got the Phoenix's powers, it was never perfectly quiet. There's always a car driving by or crickets chirping or children playing in the street. Your thoughts, everyone's thoughts, are the same for me. Background noise. They don't disturb."

Nothing had ever made him feel as insignificant as he did in that moment. He focused on the road, his hands tightening on the wheel.

"Logan, I'm sorry. Please don't take it that way. I just meant to explain that I'm not sitting here eavesdropping on your thoughts and judging you. You're just _there_, the same way I'm just _here _for you." But it wasn't that way for him at all.

"Is Scott just background noise to you?" The question slipped out before he could help it, but there was no point in keeping it in, anyway.

"Not exactly. It's hard for me to tune Scott out. But that's partly because he doesn't ask me to. He doesn't _want_ me to. He's OK with my hearing him. He's not used to being the Man of Mystery like you." She smiled at him again, and Logan relaxed a little. She could always disarm him.

"I'm not mysterious."

"I can read your mind and you're still a mystery to me, Logan. I'll never know what to expect from you, although I can predict most people. And I like you that way."

He had no idea what to say to that, so he said nothing. They drove the rest of the way in companionable silence. Or companionable background noise.

Whatever.

The X-Men gathered in Professor Xavier's office while Jean filled the rest of the team in on what they'd learned. Logan was having a hard time focusing.

"Why are Marie and Gambit not here?" he finally burst out, interrupting the debriefing. Everyone turned to stare at him, and he felt like an idiot. He knew where they were. They were in room 200, like always. "Did they have more important things to do?"

"Marie and Remy went out for the evening," the Professor said in his mild, soothing voice. Scott, on the other hand, was smirking at him. "I decided they could be filled in tomorrow. The four of you can handle what needs to be done tonight."

"She's going to want to know that her powers are coming back," he muttered unhappily.

"Precisely why I want to give her this last night off. Now here is what I need from the four of you." He went on with their assignments, and Logan forced himself to listen. He wanted to head off on his own, find Marie, punch Gambit, and warn his girl of what was going to happen. But he didn't do the solo act anymore. What the professor said was law.

That's the kind of person he was now. He wondered if Jean had noticed.


	10. Chapter 9: Marie

**Chapter 9  
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- - - - - - -

Marie shrieked.

"Remy, put me down!" She tried to scold him but couldn't hold in her laughter as he spun her around in the air. Finally he lowered her back to the floor of the crowded bar, they held each other, and they danced, spinning and whirling to the fantastic live band and bumping shoulders with the couples around them. Marie could feel the alcohol buzzing lightly through her veins, her head felt pleasantly faint, and Remy's gorgeous eyes never left hers. He gave her the smile that was hers alone, and she laughed joyfully.

It was a good night.

The song ended and they cheered and clapped, then came back together for the slow number that followed. Marie wrapped her arms tightly around Remy's neck, her gaze wavering between his intense eyes, his lips, and the open vee of his dress shirt. God, he was sexy. Sexy, and beautiful.

"I want to kiss you right now," she told him.

"So why don't you?"

"I don't want to embarrass you. I know how you like to keep a low profile in public." His mouth widened into his trademark grin.

"I am a little shy. I'll try to be brave, though, if you'll be gentle with me."

"OK. I'll take it slow." She slowly, slowly rose on her tiptoes to kiss him, taking her sweet time in reaching his lips. Finally he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her forward until they kissed.

They kissed for a damn long time. Shyness wasn't something that plagued either of them, although sometimes Marie thought they could probably use a little.

When the set was over they bought more drinks and Remy led them, inevitably, back to the card tables. She liked to watch him play—he usually won—and she kept him well supplied with beer while he did. Sometimes she would sit on his lap or drape herself over his shoulders, proud to be his accessory. When that got boring she was happy to entertain herself, scoring free drinks from men at the bar and dancing when she felt like it. Life had never been this free or fun with Bobby. It hadn't been fun at all since the day she'd followed Logan out of that boxing hall. Remy brought this part of life back to her, reminded her of the wild-child she had once been, and like everything else about him, it felt like coming home.

Marie walked up behind him and gave him a peck on the cheek. He had a terrible hand of cards. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Drinks for the whole table!" he shouted, and the three men and one woman in his poker game all hurrahed and thanked him. One of them folded shortly thereafter.

Remy would probably win. As much as he won, he was so generous and told such entertaining stories that most people didn't mind when he fleeced him. He was that likeable.

They finally left the bar in the wee hours of the morning. Neither of them had totally sobered up so they stumbled a little and giggled foolishly.

"I can't make it any further," she panted, laughing, after they had taken only two steps from the bar. She fell back against the outside wall. As she had hoped, Remy was on her within seconds.

"I love this thing," he said into her ear, fingering her black pleated miniskirt. "I love how every man's eyes follow you in it, but only I get to touch you."

"Oh, Remy, you're such a romantic," she smirked as he kissed her. She squirmed happily as he gripped her thigh. "Home is way too far away."

"I'll tell you what we do," he said, and suddenly he slumped heavily against her. She shrieked with laughter.

"What, right here?" He didn't respond. "Remy?" she pushed him back a little and he fell to the ground, unconscious. "Remy!" she screamed, falling to the pavement next to him. "Remy, wake up!" Then she saw what had happened: three tiny darts had lodged into the side of his neck. "No, no," she chanted, and frantically reached for her cell phone. The only thing she could think to do was call for help.

The purse was snatched from her hands faster than she could see. When she looked up, a tall, blonde woman in a blue dress stood over her, and just behind her, Marie's purse in hand, was the small woman who could only be Gargouille. Marie crouched over Remy protectively.

"Stay away from him," she said in a low voice. "You don't want to do this. He's an X-Man, and we'll come after you with everything we've got if you hurt him."

"What's this 'we' you speak of?" The blonde marched over to her and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her to her feet. Marie held in her cry of pain and lashed out, but the woman whipped out a knife and held it to her throat. "Gargouille, tie him up with the inhibitors," she said commandingly, her eyes never leaving Marie's face. "You talk of 'we' like you're one of the X-Men, but look at you. You're useless. You stand here and do nothing while we take your little boyfriend away. Aren't you ashamed to be so weak?"

Marie looked away to see Gargouille dragging Remy to a nearby car. She struggled slightly but the blonde pressed the knife deeper against her throat. Marie snarled at her.

"Did you attack us just so you could give me a lecture? Or is boring me to death your best weapon?"

"You should be embarrassed. You may be human but you could still _fight_. When I became human I taught myself to fight in this body, to use weapons. You are content to be helpless, dead weight for others to support. You're pathetic." She shoved Marie away. Marie hated her but knew she was right. She had a lot to make up for.

"Take me, too," she called to the woman, who had walked away. She turned to look back. "I can't leave him. I can't stop you. So take me with you."

"She'll be a handicap," Gargouille said from the car.

"She'll be a hostage," the blonde disagreed. "Tie her up with whatever you have." She turned again and went to the car; Marie stood still, useless and hopeless, as Gargouille roughly blindfolded her, bound her hands, and shoved her into the backseat on top of Remy.

They were in what must be a small room, based on the echoes of their movements. Gargouille and the blonde—formerly Mystique, as Marie had shockingly learned—dumped them on the floor.

"Search the girl," Mystique said in her terse way. "I'll search him."

"Search for what? We were out for a night on the town; we didn't exactly come armed." Gargouille ignored her as she patted down every inch of Marie's body, even reaching into her underwear. "If you wanted to cop a feel you could've just asked. Rémy and I have an open relationship."

"Shut up," Gargouille said in her gravelly voice before finally moving away. "She hasn't got it."

"Nor has he." Mystique sounded uncharacteristically annoyed. "Kill him."

"What?" Marie and Gargouille exclaimed at the same time. "Mystique, that was never part of the plan."

"He is of no use to us now. We've got to go to the school and get it ourselves; it must be there."

"We don't have to kill him; why not leave him here with the rest of them?" Mystique answered before Marie could figure what Gargouille meant.

"He's dangerous."

"He's bound with inhibitors! Mystique, don't do this."

"Gargouille, you swore to follow me. Kill him."

"I won't." Marie took that as her cue. Hopping awkwardly to her feet, she barreled forward headfirst in the direction of Mystique's voice. She connected with her torso and sent them both tumbling to the floor.

"Gargouille, help me!" Marie yelled, irrationally hoping that the woman would take her side.

Miraculously, she did. Mystique threw Marie off but she heard Gargouille speed over and attack Mystique. There was a scuffle and Marie, blindfolded, could do nothing but listen.

It was over in a minute, and she heard someone being tied up with rope. Marie's heart plummeted when she heard Mystique speak.

"You promised me your emotions wouldn't get in the way of your work."

"You never said we would kill him," Gargouille panted. "I never agreed to that. You know he was once my friend."

"Like friendship means anything to you? I don't have time for this. If you two want to team up against me, I'll leave you both here to enjoy each other's company." She grabbed Marie's bound hands and dragged her backwards, painfully, across the floor. Marie felt her hands being tied to rough, tiny fists, and knew that Mystique was tying her and Gargouille together. "Have fun, ladies," Mystique snarked, then slammed a door closed and locked it behind her.

"She didn't hurt Rémy, did she?"

"No. He's right in front of me, and he looks fine. Besides the unconscious thing."

"Why didn't she kill him?"

"I'm not sure, but…. I—I think because of me."

"What?"

"That's Mystique's way. She pretends she has no mercy, but it isn't true. I think she spared him for my sake."

"Right after she fought you and tied you up?"

"She's angry. But she'll forgive me. She would have killed him if she truly saw me as an enemy now. Believe me, it's not the first time we've fought."

They sat in silence for what felt like hours. As uncomfortable as it had been lying tied up and blindfolded on the floor, it was worse being back-to-back with Gargouille. The strange woman was too short to lean back against so Marie couldn't quite relax. Plus anytime one of them fidgeted or moved, the other was disturbed.

"Ow," Gargouille said at one point. "These ropes are starting to hurt."

"Really? I don't feel anything."

"You're lucky. I keep getting this—_ow_—this stinging thing. You don't feel that?"

"No. but I do have to pee." Gargouille snickered in amusement.

"You better hold it in, girl. This place smells bad enough with the two of them passed out." Marie suddenly remembered Mystique's earlier words about 'the rest of them.'

"The two of who? Who else is in here, besides Remy?"

"Your buddy Nightcrawler is lying about five feet to your right. He's been here for days. At least he has a mattress, unlike us. I told you Mystique could be kind." Marie shivered at the thought that someone had been lying so close to her without her knowledge. She hated being blindfolded.

"Is there anyone or anything else in here I should know about?"

"Just our friend Hammerhead. Big guy, hard head. He's keeping watch over by the door. Been looking at you a lot, too."

"What?" she cried, feelingly instantly vulnerable. A raspy sound from behind her caught her attention, and she realized Gargouille was laughing. "Oh, very funny."

"Sure is. '_What?'_" she imitated Marie in falsetto. "Got you good. No, there's no one else in here. Just the four of us."

"Thanks… bitch," Marie added in a mumble.

"Right back at you."

"So when is Remy going to wake up? What did you dose him with?"

"Just a basic fast-acting tranquilizer. He should be up again after a couple of hours; I think he's just being lazy. Won't do us any good, though. I did a nice job tying him up. Plus those are inhibitor ropes, so he won't be able to flash any of his pretty death cards."

"Are these inhibitor ropes?"

"No, Mystique didn't bother. I don't have the kinds of powers that could help us escape, and you don't have any at all. It's weird, though," she added faintly, fidgeting some more, "they keep giving me this burning feeling."

"Aren't you supposed to be super-strong? Can't you just tear us free?"

"Gee, you're right!" she replied in a voice rich in sarcasm. "Why didn't I think of that? Obviously not," she went on. "This rope can support 15 tons of weight, so believe me, it can resist any force I might exert." Marie slumped, feeling depressed. She wished she were more resourceful, could think of a way to get them out of this. But like Mystique had said, she was pretty useless.

"What do you think Mystique'll do with us when she comes back?"

"Oh, you never know with her. I don't expect she'll kill you, though. She kind of likes you."

"_What_?"

"You say that a lot, have you noticed?"

"What in the hell are you talking about? Mystique _likes_ me?"

"She's always been a little fascinated by you, at least. Ever since she saw your display of power that time Magneto tried to turn all the humans into mutants."

"Oh yeah, 'that time.' That was a barrel of laughs," Marie cut in, annoyed by Gargouille's flippancy.

"Like I was saying, she was impressed. Mystique is drawn to power. Plus it doesn't hurt that you're so close to Wolverine. She's always had a crush on that lout."

"You sound jealous."

"I have every right to be jealous," she said crossly, sounding like it was an argument she'd made many times before. "I don't like the way she looks at him or talks about him. She shouldn't be looking at anyone but me that way."

"You mean—you and Mystique, you're—"

"We're close."

"Oh." It was hard to imagine Mystique in any sort of real relationship. It was even harder to imagine anyone being attracted to Gargouille. But Marie figured those were thoughts she should keep to herself, so she changed the subject. "Well, whatever she thought of me before doesn't matter. Now that I've lost my powers, she thinks I'm a pathetic waste of space."

"Well, your powers'll come back."

"What?"

"There you go again. I said your powers will come back. The cure was temporary."

"You know, Gargouille, I just met you but I'm already sick of your crazy, cryptic statements. What the hell are you talking about now?"

"I'm talking about the cure for the mutant gene that the humans used against us as a weapon and that you stupidly took voluntarily. It doesn't work. It wears off. You think Mystique could've kicked my ass like that if she didn't have her powers back?"

"That's not true! I—"

"Aughh!" Gargouille let out a low, quick scream. "What _is_ that?" This time, Marie felt it too. It wasn't painful, exactly; it was more like an intense wave of sensation. The problem was, it felt eerily familiar.

"I don't know," Marie protested.

"You felt it?"

"Yeah, I did, but…."

"But what? Shit, it—auugghhh!" The feeling lasted longer this time around, and a wave of revitalizing energy washed over Marie. What was paining Gargouille was giving her strength. There was no denying it now.

"Dear god in heaven, I know what it is," she whispered.

"What? What is it?"

"My powers are coming back." There was a beat of silence.

"No. No. Not now. Keep it in, or something!"

"I can't, I can't do anything! I've never been able to control it."

"Get off of me, then!"

"I'm trying!" The pain hit again and Gargouille gasped in agony, but this time it didn't go away. Marie felt them lock together, and she knew that this was it. Her powers were no longer returning; they were already back.

And if she didn't get away from Gargouille soon, she would kill her.

Marie leaned away from her as far as possible and lifted her arms, shaking and waving them back and forth, trying to get some space between them. Gargouille couldn't help at all. She was immobilized, trapped in the pain as Marie drained her life force away. Only Marie could act, and she wasn't strong enough or agile enough or _anything_ enough to separate them. Their hands remained firmly pressed against each other, knuckle to knuckle, and through that barest of contact, Marie stole her life away.

Marie screamed. Gargouille screamed. She couldn't distinguish between the two. She had never touched anyone with her powers for this long, and she was now absorbing far more than her mutant abilities. Memories that didn't belong to Marie flitted across her mind—crouching over a fire for warmth in an abandoned subway tunnel; stealing her best friend's life savings and running off with it; doing tricks on a stage as a girl while her father sold tickets. Marie felt the intensity of her love for Mystique. A rush of heightened senses overwhelmed her and she could suddenly hear the heartbeats of everyone in the room, smell their sweat, and make out the grains of the fabric in the cloth that covered her eyes.

And lastly, she felt the pain of her death. Gargouille's death. Only then did the sensations stop overwhelming her and she regained her sense of self, both mentally and physically.

She was lying on her side; they had tipped over in their struggles to pull apart. Her face was covered in dried tears and she could smell blood where she'd bit her lip.

Gargouille was behind her, dead.

Marie sat up and was startled by how easy it was. She had Gargouille's strength, now. She also had a bit of the woman's shrewdness in her, and she realized she now knew how the rest of them could escape.

Hers was the power of a parasite; she would benefit from the other mutant's death. She was smarter, stronger, faster, with better senses and keener reflexes. Marie scooted backwards across the floor, pushing Gargouille's dead weight effortlessly. When they ran into what had to be Remy's body, she used her legs to turn them around so she could lean against him.

"Remy?" she asked in a frighteningly steady voice. He didn't reply, and she could hear his deep, even breathing. He was definitely still out. By crawling, throwing her legs over his body, and scooting back and forth, Marie maneuvered herself and Gargouille until their hands were on top of Remy's. As disgusted as she felt using her powers again so soon after killing with them, she forced herself to spread her fingers until she could clasp his. He started to shake a little as she sucked his powers away, but she only held on for a few seconds.

Marie pulled away from him and dragged Gargouille behind her again. This would be a delicate operation, and she didn't want to risk setting Remy on fire. When they were far enough, Marie started to manipulate the form of the ropes that bound her, converting them from solid mass into pure kinetic energy. She did it slowly, gently, so that it burned rather than exploded. Her heightened reflexes helped her control the force, and she burned through the ropes one braid at a time. She did it with such finesse that by the time it was thin enough for her to tear through, she hadn't caused any damage to her or Gargouille.

She pulled free of the ropes and ripped the blindfold off, then had to shut her eyes immediately. She opened them again, adjusting to the new world around her. Everything was brighter, more detailed, and richer than she had ever seen it. It was beautiful. This was the world that Gargouille had known.

"Gargouille," she said softly, turning to look at her. She lay inert on the floor, her skin even grayer in death than it had been in life, thanks to the way she died. Marie gently unbound her wrists and crossed them over her chest, then shut her wide, horrified eyes. Her death had not been an easy one, she knew that. She stared down at Gargouille's face a long time, thinking about all the things she knew about her now.

That her father had pretended to love her but treated her as a freak show to earn money. How her mother had died shortly after rescuing her from him. The way she could never believe in a good thing when she had it, and turned on all the people who were good to her. She stole money from the friend who had taken her in. She attacked Gambit, who had once saved her from an angry mob of homophobic Morlocks. And most recently, she'd turned on Mystique, who was the love of her life.

Again and again in her life, Gargouille couldn't resist betraying the people she loved. As if she thought it was better to hurt them before they hurt her. Well, she was at peace now. Marie ran her fingers over her eyebrows and jawline, mourning the mutant who was now a part of her.

A change in breathing and a slight movement from behind her interrupted her reverie. Marie whirled to see that Kurt was stirring, and she zipped over to his mattress.

Marie sat on the edge of one sofa and looked at Gargouille's body, lying on the other. She'd been staring at the dead mutant for over an hour, wondering if she'd ever get over the guilt of having killed her.

Kurt and Remy were gone. She'd sent them back to the school but insisted on waiting for Mystique's return. If Remy had been conscious, he never would have let her stay on her own. But Kurt let her be, not just because he lacked Remy's protectiveness, but because he shared some of Gargouille's faith in Mystique.

"She has treated me mostly well, despite my captivity," he explained. "And we have talked quite a bit. She is a hard woman, but not an evil one. If you wish to stay, I won't stop you." They shook hands and then Kurt latched on to Remy's body and teleported away.

Marie waited.

The men left early in the morning; it wasn't until late that night that Marie heard the click-clack of heels outside the front door and the sound of a key in the lock. She stood up and faced the entrance, folding her hands respectfully.

Mystique entered in human form and stopped when she saw Marie. In an instant, she morphed into her normal blue figure and tensed her body, gearing for a fight.

"I see you made your way out," she said, her voice vibrating with that strange, echoing quality that only manifested in her mutant form. Marie moved forward slowly, not wanting to startle her. "I'm impressed, though I'm sure Gargouille is mostly responsible."

"In a way, yes she was. Mystique, there's something you need to know."

"Stop moving." Marie froze. Mystique's eyes darted around the apartment, scoping out the situation. Gargouille was hidden from her view by the back of the couch.

"You have to listen to me," Marie said as Mystique walked forward.

"I said stop moving."

"Mystique, wait!" It was too late. She reached the seating area and her head snapped down to see Gargouille, clearly dead.

"No," she whispered. When she looked back up, her eyes were full of hatred.

"It was an—" Mystique pounced before she could finish, rearing in the air and raising her arms to smash Marie's head. Marie jumped aside, reaching the other side of the sofas before Mystique even landed.

Mystique stopped, then, and looked at her in astonishment.

"So your powers have returned."

"Yes."

"And you robbed Gargouille of hers, killing her."

"No! Yes—it was an accident. You bound us together, Mystique, and we had no idea my powers were returning until it was too late!" Mystique stilled completely again, only her eyes shifting to fix on Gargouille.

"You're saying this is my fault."

"No," Marie said gently, no longer afraid. "It was no one's fault. You didn't know my powers would return just then—"

"I should have," she cut in. Mystique walked purposefully to the sofa and knelt in front of Gargouille. She ran her fingers over Gargouille's brows and jawline, and Marie recognized the gesture, realizing she had done the same because Gargouille had liked it. "Was it a painful death?"

"It was quick," Marie hedged. "She was small, and not very powerful, if you don't mind my saying. It only took half a minute, maybe."

Mystique didn't respond, just brushed her fingers over Gargouille's face and arms and hands. Marie wasn't sure if she should leave.

"And now you have all her powers?" Mystique looked over her shoulder at Marie.

"Yeah. And a lot of her memories, too."

"Her memories?" Marie nodded.

"I sometimes take on the attributes of people I, um, touch. I've never gotten someone's memories before, though. I guess it's different when—when they die. I have a lot of her memories, and I—I feel a little different, too. Like, I know how she would react to something, and part of me wants to act that way. I think she's the reason I wanted to wait here for you." Mystique just looked at her inscrutably, then turned back to Gargouille. Marie watched, actually feeling sympathy for her enemy, as Mystique gently dropped her forehead atop Gargouille's.

"You can leave."

Marie fled.


	11. Chapter 10: Storm

**Chapter 10**

- - - - - - -

Storm sat at her desk shuffling papers around, pretending to work. No one was watching her so she didn't know why she even bothered. Maybe she was trying to prove something to herself. That she was the right choice for Vice Director of the school. That she was doing her best. That she cared at all.

But it was difficult to care about school business when the world around her was going nuts. Thankfully Kurt had been found and rescued, so she didn't have that stress weighing her down anymore. And Marie and Gambit had also come back. No, not Marie anymore—Rogue. Storm wished the girl would just pick a name and stick to it. She had just gotten used to calling her Marie, after all.

Even though her friend and the others were back, there was still plenty to worry about. Magneto, restored to his powers. Would that man never go away? Giving up entirely on doing school work, Storm stood up from her desk and walked to the windows, crossing her arms as she looked out on the empty school grounds. She hated the summer vacations. She missed the children. They always needed something, always coming to her with problems to solve, as she was much more accessible than the Professor. She liked being needed. Many of them were in awe of her, too, and she liked being a role model.

"Brooding, Storm?" She turned at the Professor's voice and smiled at him as he wheeled his chair into her office.

"I hope not," she answered as she sat down across from him on her couch. "I prefer to think of it as thinking deeply, not brooding."

"It's too quiet without the students here, isn't it?"

"Have you been reading my mind?" He laughed gently, and she felt her face soften into a smile. Maybe she had been brooding; this man could always pull her out of herself.

"I didn't need to. You always stand by that window when classes are out of session. I sometimes think you're trying to stare the children back into existence."

"You miss them too, don't try to hide it," she teased.

"I do. But I'm glad they're not here now. Magneto has been planning his attacks for a long time, and I don't look forward to what he has in store for us. We're going to need all the X-Men out in the field for this one."

"You'll have us. We'll be ready, and we won't be alone. Hank is coming to the city the day after tomorrow, and he said he's bringing friends, too. By the weekend we'll have a strong force gathered to meet whatever Magneto throws at us."

"That's good. I only wish we—"

"Professor X!" Scott burst into the office sounding panicked. The Professor whirled around and Storm jumped up.

"What is it, Scott?"

"Magneto! He started the attack early! He's kidnapped the mayor already, and downtown Manhattan is practically in flames. Gambit was down there at a bar and got jumped, but Jean sensed he was in trouble and pulled him out. He told us there was a group of City Council members that they attacked; he tried to save them and one got away, but they got about five others. Jean says that police stations across the borough are being seized, and all the bridges and tunnels to Manhattan have been completely blocked."

"And City Hall?"

"Taken. Council wasn't in session, but Magneto's people have set it up as their headquarters. They're keeping at least some of the captives there, although Jean says the Mayor is somewhere else. She doesn't know where yet; Magneto is using plenty of anti-psionic technology to block her."

"Storm, reach Hank and let him know what's happening. Scott, sound the alarm and get everyone to the jet. We can split up from there. Storm, join us as soon as you've gotten through." Storm and Scott didn't even respond; as Professor X and Scott left the room Storm went straight to her desk and pressed the button to open a hidden wall console. She pulled up the high security phone lines and called Hank. Then she ran to the jet, where Professor Xavier was waiting and Gambit, Logan and Rogue were getting dressed.

"Where's Jean and Scott?" Storm demanded as she pulled on her own suit.

"Jean is doing what she can from here, and needs all her attention right now. But they'll join us shortly," the Professor explained. "Storm, Kurt, you and I are heading towards a school building in Washington Heights that's been seized by Magneto's people. Jean found out that they are holding many of the councilmembers there, but they've also kept at least 100 students as hostages with them. The three of us will handle that situation best. Logan, Rogue, Gambit, you will continue to City Hall with Jean and Scott to take on Magneto directly. We will try to catch up as soon as possible.

"Storm, I think we're ready. Take us to the city."

"Roger that, Professor." She plugged into the jet's controls and guided them through takeoff. She wondered why they weren't waiting for Jean and Scott, but she didn't question Xavier's commands during battle.

They were halfway across the Bronx when Jean and Scott suddenly appeared in the back of the jet, out of nowhere. Gambit cried out in alarm and Storm looked back to see what had happened. She widened her eyes but said nothing. Jean looked distracted; she was clearly still working some kind of telekinetic mojo from afar. Scott guided her into a seat and strapped her in, while she paid him barely any mind.

"Since when can they do that?" Gambit demanded.

"Jean is fighting bad guys from 50 miles away and you're surprised she can teleport?" Kurt asked mildly.

"They might give a person some warning next time," Rogue mumbled. "We've got a mutant back here who practically sparks with explosive energy 24/7. Maybe you should think twice about surprising him in a jet." Storm saw Gambit cast a chummy grin at Rogue but she ignored him. So those two still hadn't made up, then.

"Take it down a notch, kids, and let's focus on the mission," Storm ordered before turning back to watch the skies. "We're almost to the school. Everyone know their job?"

"Yes, Professor Storm," Logan and Gambit said at exactly the same time. Storm rolled her eyes.

"Alright, we're here. Let's get busy." She landed the jet gently on the roof of the school building and shut down, then moved to help the Professor into his chair and off the plane. "Scott, she's all yours," she jerked her head to the cockpit and then wheeled Xavier down the ramp. "Kurt, Professor, you both ready?" They nodded. "Then I'll go knock on the door."

Storm went into herself, drawing out her power. Her vision changed as the world around her became a tapestry of wild weather patterns, and she summoned a wind to lower the three of them to the gravely ground in front of the school's main entrance.

Shots rang out and whizzed by them; Storm saw that four armed guards were stationed there and were intently aiming at her team. Thinking quickly, she created a fog in front of them and manipulated the light particles, making them effectively invisible. The bullets kept coming, but now they were much wider.

Lightning flashed in the sky and Storm shot a bolt into the front doors, blowing them to pieces.

"That will do, thank you, Storm," Xavier said to her telepathically. She let the weather calm down but kept them invisible so he could do his work. A second later, the four guards were on the ground, unconscious. The Professor had put them all to sleep.

"Now, Professor?" Kurt asked.

"Wait for it…." Sure enough, a wave of armed mutants came rushing out of the building and took cover. Storm saw that various more had taken up sentinel posts from beside multiple windows. They were settling in for a long battle. Just as expected. "Go ahead, Kurt." While the two sides sized each other up, Kurt teleported into the school to run a quick reconnaissance. He returned about a minute later.

"The children are all in the cafeteria, on the ground floor directly on the other side of this school. There are at least ten guards there with guns trained directly on the students. There are also ten government hostages in the basement, at the northwest corner of the building. They are all tied up with anti-psionic ropes and are also under heavy guard."

"Very well. Kurt, I need you to bring me into the cafeteria. Storm, can you take care of the situation out here?"

"With pleasure." She waited for Kurt to teleport himself and Xavier into the school before she began in earnest. Then she made herself visible, hoping to act as a distraction. It worked; immediately the mutants began shooting at her, so she spun like a tornado into the air and drew powerful winds around her, which she then blasted past the front of the school. Guards went flying. She didn't want to mess around with more lightning and risk starting a fire, so she decided to go small, instead.

Air in a person's lungs was a little trickier to manipulate than air currents in the sky, but she could do it. First she called up a heavy fog to blind the sentries, and then she found them one by one and attacked. She flew over to the windows and began yanking them out, dropping them to the ground below one by one before suffocating them into unconsciousness.

That worked until she encountered a mutant who didn't fall. When she grabbed his gun and pulled him out of the window, he just hung in the air and gave her a cheeky grin, his long, greasy yellow hair hanging over his pale face like a dirty rag. Then he gave her a punch in the face so fierce she soared back at least twenty feet in the air. It was on, now.

Storm raced back in to take him on, drawing on all of her powers and martial arts to fight him and the dozen or so other mutants who jumped into the fray when they landed on the ground. She didn't think, didn't plan, just responded and attacked the way she'd been taught, the way her body behaved instinctively, now. She wasn't just fighting for her life; she knew that the busier she kept these guys out here, the longer Kurt and Xavier would have inside to rescue the children and the adult hostages.

She tore through the enemy like a whirlwind, throwing and kicking and blowing and choking as they fell around her. She didn't know how long she fought – she could have gone on forever – but suddenly Kurt was there, flashing in and out of the fog and taking Magneto's men on with her. The two of them together were unstoppable, and soon there was no one left to fight.

"Where are the children?" Storm asked, panting, when the last of the villains had fallen. Kurt walked over to her.

"In the yard, with Professor Xavier. The representatives are there, too. Come." He wrapped his arms around her waist and teleported them to the back yard of the school. The children were huddled together there in large groups, with the Professor and the councilmembers keeping watch. Many of them were crying, but they were all silent and relatively calm.

"Do we have a ride yet, Professor?" Storm asked him. He looked up at her with a small smile, and nodded.

"It should be here any – ah, there we go." A public bus turned the corner and rolled to a stop right outside the school. "Let's get the children onboard." Storm walked forward purposefully and began herding the children towards the bus. She nodded at the driver, who, being under the Professor's control, gave her a rather dazed nod in return.

"All aboard, kids," Storm ushered them on.

Once they had gotten the children to a safe place and the council members agreed to make sure they all got home, it was time to join the other X-Men. They requisitioned a car and Storm flew them downtown. The streets were deserted; the city a disaster area. Fires had sprouted up sporadically, and they looked on in shock and anger as the city fell to pieces under Magneto's attack. Bands of mutants were looting and celebrating at Lincoln Center, Times Square, Herald Square, and various other less-prominent side streets that they flew over.

"So much damage in so short a time," Kurt said in an awed voice.

"We're going to put a stop to this," Storm replied, wanting to take his hand but focusing on their flight. "We've got to take care of Magneto for good, you know that, right, Professor?" Xavier did not respond. He would always have a soft spot for Magneto, as they had once been friends. But it was clear to Storm that Magneto would never stop until he was dead.

They reached City Hall, and it was a war zone.


	12. Chapter 11: Rogue

**Chapter 11**

- - - - - -

Rogue was having so much fun.

"Aw, c'mon, show me a little love. Don't run away!" She raced after her opponent and jumped him, pulling him down to the ground. He let off an electric shock and she leapt off his body. Both of them had powers that prevented them from being touched. Lucky for her, she had recently gained some new powers, too. Rogue let a series of kicks and punches fly, pummeling the mutant until he fell. She moved too quickly for him to shock her, and the fight ended quickly.

"You need some help, baby?" she called to Remy, who she now noticed was fighting an entire posse over by the entrance gate to the City Hall grounds. He was dodging attacks and causing explosions all over the place, but didn't seem to be making any progress.

"So it's 'baby' again, huh?" He managed to respond as she dove into the fray. "I thought you said we can't be together anymore."

"Don't read too much into it," she grunted as she wrestled with a mutant with a crushing hug. She evaded his grasp and hurled him at least twenty feet away. "I'm running on pure adrenaline, here; no room for thought."

"Where'd you learn to fight like that, anyway?"

"I didn't! Gargouille knows. Knew. Whatever." They fought side by side and Rogue couldn't deny it felt particularly good to be standing here with Remy, fighting evil together. She'd been excluded from this part of his life; it was some consolation for losing the freedom to be with him. And they made an awesome team. No reinforcements had gotten in to City Hall since they'd arrived and Scott had snuck in with Hank McCoy for reconnaissance. And no one had even seen the jet, parked on a roof nearby, where Jean was battling in her own way, trying to fight the psionic barriers placed against her.

"Well Gargouille kicks some serious ass."

"I know! Watch this!" She headlocked two smallish mutants who tried to sneak up on her, and bashed their heads together. "Marie could never do that!" Remy gave her a strange look between combatants.

"Rogue—"

"Scott's gone!" Hank McCoy fell from the sky in front of them, or at least it looked that way to Rogue. She didn't know where he'd come from, but he had landed in a crouch in front of them and swept the remaining mutants away easily.

"What do you mean gone?" Remy asked, sounding almost frightened. He and Remy moved closer to Hank and they turned their backs on one another, forming a sort of triangle to keep an eye out for more attackers. "Gone, how?"

"We reached a room where we believe Magneto is hiding. There were two mutants standing outside of it and we were spying on them when someone ambushed _us_. I'm afraid they were far too powerful for us both; one of them rendered me completely immobile while two others were able to get to Scott. They stabbed him with something, I don't know what, and then I saw them tie him with—_GET AWAY FROM THE GATES!_"

Remy and Rogue both whirled around to stare in shock at Hank. His voice had changed completely and he was now floating through the air at a rapid pace, very unnaturally. Rogue caught Remy's eye quickly and they both took off after their blue comrade.

"Can he fly?" Remy demanded.

"No more than I-auugghhhh!" Rogue felt herself lifted from the ground, and it felt like she was being physically thrown after Hank. Remy hurtled through the air after her. "What in the—"

"It's Jean!" Remy shouted. "She must have realized they have Scott!"

"_I'm taking out everyone in there until I find him." _The words came from Hank's mouth again, but now Rogue understood that Jean was talking through him. Jean dropped the three of them under a tree on the far side of the City Hall garden, and they tumbled and collided. Rogue quickly scrambled to her knees and grabbed Hank.

"What do you mean 'taking them out'? Jean, Magneto has anti-psionic technology. If you don't know where Scott is, how do you think you can find him?"

"_Stay here_," was the only response. A moment later Hank shook himself and stood up.

"That was rather rude."

"Jean must have heard you or something, Hank. Did you hear what she said?"

"Yes, I did. I also felt her presence, and I must tell you, she did not feel entirely stable."

"This isn't good." There was no need to reply to this, as a moment later the gates in front of City Hall were incinerated in a brief but fiery blast.

"Are we going to stay here like she said?" Rogue asked.

"Hell, no. I've never been one for following orders." Remy began running back towards City Hall and Rogue sprinted after him.

"Are we going to help her?"

"Maybe. She may be about to make our lives much easier—whoa."

Rogue remembered standing in an Italian restaurant over a month ago, and watching men being shredded to pieces one after another. At the time she had no idea who was doing it. Now she watched in horror as it happened again to a troop of five mutants who were pouring out of the building, and she knew exactly what was going on.

"She's killing them. She's going to kill everyone inside until she finds Scott."

"Well, good. Let's end this."

"No, Remy! This isn't good! As few casualties as possible, that's our way! We don't even know if Magneto's men have killed anyone at this point; we can't just kill them for kidnapping people."

"They didn't take hundreds of hostages because they want to sit around and chat, Marie. Don't be naïve!"

"I didn't say they did! And I'm not naïve, you ass! These are the Professor's rules – no killing unless absolutely necessary."

"Well maybe it's necessary—" Remy's words were cut off by an enormous explosion. The entire top floor of City Hall had just been decimated, and they ducked under a nearby tree to avoid the flying rubble. "Holy Christ, was that Jean?"

"I think so," Hank said, sounding both awed and horrified.

"Look, there could be innocent people up there! We have to stop Jean! I'm going after her." Rogue started running but Remy jerked her back and she nearly fell over.

"Like hell, you are. What if she kills you?" Rogue snatched her arm away and shoved him to the ground.

"Either help me or get out of my way, Gambit." His eyes narrowed, looking both angered and perhaps hurt. Rogue didn't have time to worry about his feelings, but she couldn't just leave him lying there. They glared at each other for a heated moment.

"Perhaps we should wait for reinforcements," Hank put in mildly. Rogue turned to him in disgust.

"I'm not waiting while people are dying," she snapped.

"Help may be closer than you think." He nodded at something behind her and Rogue turned to see a beat-up old car rolling over the grass towards them. Storm and Kurt jumped out of it, and pulled the Professor after them.

Thank god.

Rogue and the two useless idiots beside her ran to join the rest of their team.

"What happened here?"

"Jean."

"They kidnapped Scott. He's under some anti-psionic protection and she can't find him, so she's killing everyone in sight."

"Where is she?"

"The jet's up there," Gambit pointed to the roof of a high-rise across the street. The Professor didn't waste any time.

"Kurt, take me there _now_." In a flash, the two of them disappeared. The rest of the X-Men looked at one another in slight puzzlement, not sure what to do.

"I'm going after them," Rogue said impetuously, but Storm held up a hand.

"Just wait."

Rogue waited, feeling extremely jumpy with every second that passed. It was less than a minute before Kurt reappeared in front of them, however.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Professor Xavier convinced her to stop. Storm, Hank, Gambit, you will go in to rescue Scott, with Jean's help. Marie—er, Rogue—there are several of Magneto's men on their way to the roof of that building right now, to try and stop Jean. They are protected from her detection so we need you to stand guard and keep them off of Jean. You must not let any of them pass. I will take the Professor inside to try and reach Magneto."

"Storm will go with the Professor," Rogue suddenly heard herself saying. "I can't track her at all. Send Kurt to help me get Scott." Suddenly she felt a huge release from a tension she hadn't even realized she'd felt. Jean had been talking through her. It was seriously unpleasant.

"Was that Jean?"

"Why can't she track you, Storm?"

"I don't know. But let's do what she says." They split up. Rogue wrapped her arms around Kurt and he teleported them to the jet. The Professor was there, but a second later he and Kurt were gone. Rogue was alone, and she could not let anyone pass.

Jean needed to hurry the hell up. Rogue didn't know how long she'd been out here, fighting like she'd never fought before, but she was getting tired. It felt like Magneto had sent his entire force up here to attack the jet. She had to race back and forth between opponents non-stop, and every time she would knock someone out or shove them over the side of the building—no time to think about that—another one would appear.

She wasn't sure she could keep this up much longer. And then Mystique appeared, and she knew she was doomed. Everyone else faded into the background, somehow.

"Get out of my way." Rogue felt a thrill of fear, for the first time all day. Worse, it was all mixed together with guilt and love and exhaustion and determination, and she realized that Mystique had a powerful hold over her. But she could not let her pass.

"It's not happening, Mystique. I will fight you."

"You can try." She lunged.

Rogue dodged her attack and they began to fight in earnest. But Mystique was vicious, and powerful, and unstoppable, and she kept pushing Rogue back. They got closer and closer to the jet. Rogue brought out every move she could think of, but Mystique had her on the defensive from the start.

"I won't let you pass," Rogue snarled, trying not to show her exhaustion. "I'm not the weak, pathetic girl you once called me. You should've killed me while you had the chance, when I was still human."

"I wanted to see what you would become," Mystique replied in an emotionless voice, surprising her. "You are more powerful now. But I'm still stronger." She landed a series of vicious punches and kicks that knocked Rogue to the ground. She lay there, stunned, unable to move, and Mystique leapt on top of her. The eerily blue woman lowered her head until she was just inches above; Rogue couldn't tear her eyes away. "There's so much I could have taught you," Mystique said throatily. "Too bad." She lifted her hands to Rogue's head, when—

She disappeared. Rogue scrambled backwards, confused.

"What in the hell?"

"It's over." Rogue looked up and climbed to her feet, and saw Jean striding down the jet ramp, looking irritatingly calm. "Scott's safe. So are the others. And now you are, too."

"Where's Mystique?" Rogue didn't care to ponder why she sounded so distraught, but she had to know. "Did you kill her?"

"No. She's in jail. Which is where Magneto will be in just a minute if you'd be quiet for a second." Jean closed her eyes and Rogue watched as….nothing happened. "There. It's done."

"Are you kidding me? What do you mean done?"

"Magneto and his men are all detained, as are his henchmen. At least, all of the ones in City Hall. Now that there are no hostages, the police can get back to work and get control of the city again. Our work here is done."

"Just like that? What happened to all the anti-psionic technology?"

"It slows me down, it doesn't stop me. And that's the one thing I can't fight—time. That and—oh, no."

"What?" Rogue asked, but it was immediately clear. Jean collapsed into a heap on the ground. "Shit!" She picked up the now-powerless mutant and carried her into the jet. "I hate flying this stupid thing," Rogue muttered to herself. A few minutes later they were flying back to school, and Rogue prepared for the fallout that happens after a battle.


	13. Chapter 12: Rogue

**Chapter 12**

- - - - - - -

"Can I join you?" Rogue looked up in surprise from her dinner to see Storm standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Uh, yeah, of course." She liked Storm, but the two of them rarely interacted outside of mission or school work. Storm pulled a sandwich out of the fridge and sat down at the table across from Rogue. "What's up?"

"Same as always. People stirring up trouble where there doesn't need to be any. But how are you, Rogue? It's been three months since we beat Magneto, and you've been working like crazy. You used to go out all the time with Remy or your other friends. Now it seems like you're as tethered to this place as I am." Rogue should have been annoyed by the questions, but it was impossible to be annoyed with Storm, who was always reasonable.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "You know I'm not with Gambit any more."

"Yes, I know."

"There just always seems to be something more important going on. Now that I have powers again, and powers I can actually _use_, I feel this huge responsibility. Don't you feel that?"

"I used to," Storm said, after thinking for a few moments. "Now, I guess I feel like I've paid my dues. I'll do what I can to protect innocent lives, but I'll also look after myself. If you don't do the same, you'll burn out."

"I won't burn out."

"Maybe not yet. Or any time soon. But you've been pushing yourself pretty hard, and you can't do that forever." Rogue sighed.

"I just don't know what else to do." And as she said it, she realized that was the heart of the problem. The X-Men team was now her life. Before, she had been an outsider, just a human who pitched in wherever she could to help the others defend mutants and save lives. Now she was the one saving lives, but she felt like more of an outsider than ever. Now that she was one of them, she realized that the X-Men were really a team of loners, aside from Jean and Scott.

"Yeah. I hear you," Storm responded.

"What do you think I should do, Storm?"

"Please call me Ororo, won't you?" Rogue tried not to wince visibly. She preferred calling mutants by their chosen names, now that the human world was blocked off from her. But she couldn't very well disregard her request.

"If you insist."

"I do."

"Then, Ororo, what do you think I should do?"

"Honestly?" She waited for a response, so Rogue nodded. "I think you should talk to Remy." Rogue felt her defenses shoot up, and she turned away. She would not talk to anyone about Gambit. She tried to think of some clever reply, something dismissive and light that would change the topic, but she couldn't get her thoughts to focus.

"Forget it," she muttered.

"You asked my opinion."

"I know. And that's the only reason I'm not walking away right now, so just forget it." Storm raised her eyebrows and picked up her sandwich, letting Rogue stew in her own aggression. They sat for a couple of minutes like that, tense, and Rogue thought she should just go.

"It's hard to know how much people can handle," Storm said suddenly, softly. "I know you have your own reasons for breaking things off with him. And I bet they're good reasons, too."

"They are." Storm nodded.

"Mystique escaped from prison last night." Shocked, Rogue set down her fork deliberately and looked straight at Storm, trying to stay calm. She didn't understand why Storm had changed the subject so abruptly, but she wasn't sure she cared. Her heart was racing.

"Are you kidding?"

"Of course I'm not kidding. She's MIA. And you know what else?"

"What?"

"She's Kurt's mother."

"_What?_" Rogue thought she might get whiplash from this conversation. She'd never realized it, but Storm was a woman with secrets.

"His mother. And that's what I think about when I say that we don't know how much a person can handle. You broke things off with Remy to protect him. I understand that. I haven't told Kurt about his mother because I'm afraid of what he'll do, of what this will mean to him. But don't we owe it to these men to give them a chance? Haven't they earned our trust?" That was about as much as Rogue could handle. She'd been avoiding other people's company for the past three months or so, and while she liked Storm, this was just too much. She stood up and dumped the rest of her food.

"Look," she paused while standing over the sink. Storm turned in her seat to meet her eyes. "I appreciate the pep talk. I do. But I left Gambit because I knew _I_ couldn't handle being with him. Whatever you're going through with Kurt is totally different. Sorry."

"If you say so."

"Good night, Ororo."

"Good night." Rogue stalked out and went to her room, wishing this didn't feel so much like running away.

When she woke up the next morning, she realized she had dreamed of Mystique all night. She cursed as she got ready for the day ahead. During the morning meeting with Xavier, her thoughts wandered to what Mystique might be doing, where she was hiding, and with whom. Rogue didn't know whether she was interested because of Gargouille's influence, or for her own reasons. But she'd given up trying to work out that equation weeks ago.

"I'm leaving." Logan's baritone interrupted her thoughts, and Rogue finally tuned into the meeting. "I thought I should tell you before I go, Professor, and the rest of you, too. I've got a lead on someone who used to work with Stryker, and I'm going to follow it. It's time I found out exactly what happened to me."

"How long will you be gone?" Jean asked, sounding a little upset. Like _she_ had reason to be upset, Rogue rolled her eyes.

"A while. As long as Magneto's put away and things are calm around here, you probably shouldn't expect to see me for a long time."

"I would ask you to reconsider, Logan, but I know how you are when your mind is made up," Professor Xavier said. "In that case, I hope you will stay until tomorrow, at least, so we can work out passing along your responsibilities to someone else." Logan nodded tersely, and that was it.

That was it. They went on with the meeting as if everything hadn't just changed, while Rogue sat there and tried to find her breath. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, trying not to scream or cry or attack someone. He was _leaving_. Again. And while they hadn't been talking much lately, she didn't know what she'd do without him. She could see Gambit staring at her from the corner of her eyes, but she ignored him. She tried to keep her cool, but it was no use. Finally she jumped up and rushed out of the office, shaking Gambit's hand off when he tried to stop her.

Rogue ran down the hallway and out of the building, needing some air. She walked out to the front lawn of the school and tilted her head back, shutting her eyes. She felt two annoying tears drip down the sides of her cheeks, and wiped them off brusquely.

"Marie."

"That's _not_ my name," she snarled, whirling around to face Wolverine. She surprised herself with her ferocity, and realized that she wasn't just sad, she was _pissed_. "My name is Rogue, and you would know that if you gave a damn about me. But you don't." He walked closer to her, an apologetic look on his face. She looked away.

"You're still Marie to me. You're still the kid who snuck into my truck up in the Yukon, and then got herself kidnapped by Magneto."

"Am I still a kid to you, Logan? After everything that's happened, is that still all that you see? An annoying child you have to take care of?" The tears were flowing, now, but she didn't care. She hoped they hurt him.

"You've never been an annoyance—"

"Then take me with you." She brushed the tears away and sniffled, standing tall to look at him. "That's all I've ever wanted. And I have powers now, I can _help_ you."

"No." She just stared at him, at his unmoving, unyielding face. He stared back, and she wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

"Do you love me at all? In any way?" Her voice was small, and void of emotion. She had never felt more vulnerable. Logan's head snapped back slightly, and a look almost of panic came across his face. He looked completely baffled, and she couldn't help but laugh. "I'm sorry," she said, giggling helplessly. "I shouldn't have asked you that. I know you better than that. But here's the thing, Logan. I love you."

Saying it was like releasing a binding that had clenched her heart tight for years. Rogue felt immediately lighter, and her smile widened.

"I love you," she repeated. "And you probably can't handle that. You wouldn't know what to do with those words even if Jean said them to you." His eyes narrowed at that. Like it was some big secret that he cared about Jean Grey. "But that's how I feel, and I'll still love you no matter what you do or however you feel about me. So let me go with you, damn it. I won't ask anything of you. I just..." She hesitated, suddenly afraid, but she had already bared her heart to him. May as well go all the way. "I just need to be with you. Be around you. You're the only person I can be myself with, and the only person I trust. I know you, Logan. And I need you."

She waited. If this didn't convince him, nothing would.

He reached out, and took her hand in his. Her heart skipped about a thousand beats, and she held her breath. He turned her hand and placed a kiss right on her gloved palm, and her eyes fell shut.

"I'm sorry," he said gently. Her eyes flew open and met his, and she saw what his answer was. She tore her hand back. "I'm going to find out about my past. And that's something I need to do by myself. It's not about you, Marie. If I could take anyone with me, it would be you. But I can't. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, alright. I get it." All of her energy left in a rush. The adrenaline, the nervousness, the anger; it was all gone. He had rejected her, and there was nothing she could do to change that. Nothing would ever change how he felt, and her feelings weren't enough to make up for that. "Goodbye, Logan."

"Rogue, I will come back," he said as she turned and started walking away. She stopped but didn't turn back.

"It doesn't matter. You'll just leave again." He didn't respond, so she walked on, letting her tears fall.


	14. Chapter 13: Jean Grey

**Chapter 13**

- - - - - - -

"You missed one."

"I did not!"

"I set up the course; I think I would know." Scott walked over to the puzzle board and picked up a red game piece that Jean had missed. He had scattered small, round game pieces across a sandpit in the school basement, and she was supposed to lift all the red ones from across the room while blindfolded.

"Damn it," she muttered, removing her blindfold and letting the pieces fall. Scott grinned at her cockily.

"Guess you're not perfect after all, huh?" This was the first exercise of his that she hadn't passed with flying colors, and he was gloating. Jean made a face at him.

"Guess not. That _is_ why we're doing this, after all, isn't it?" He grew serious and walked over to her, taking her hand.

"Yes. And because you need to build up your strength and skill. We can't have you collapsing again like last time." Jean didn't like to think back on that. She had frightened herself by fainting after the City Hall battle. She couldn't overextend her powers like that ever again.

"I know," she said apologetically, squeezing his hand and, with a small thrill, feeling their rings clink against each other.

They were interrupted by the sound of a commotion outside the door. Glancing at each other in surprise, they hurried into the corridor to see Storm, Nightcrawler, and Logan, looking panicked.

"Rogue is missing," Logan said, sounding like he was gearing up for a serious smackdown. "We need you to find her, Jean." Jean instantly reached out for Rogue's mind, but before she could find her, Gambit joined the group.

"She's not missing," he said, sounding nonchalant but determinedly not meeting anyone's eyes. Jean noticed that he stood slightly in front of Logan, so that he wouldn't have to look at him. "She left me a note. She's gone to look for Mystique."

"What?" at least three people exclaimed. Even Jean looked to Gambit for explanation. He just shrugged.

"Don't ask me. She said she had a lot to learn from Mystique."

"You mean she's not going to _fight_ her?" Storm asked, perturbed.

"No," Jean put in, having finally located Rogue. The young woman was sitting on a train heading West, on her way to a cabin she knew about from Gargouille's memories. "She's going to join her." An ominous silence fell over the X-Men. They all thought about Pyro, the last mutant they had lost to Magneto and Mystique. Would Rogue go the same way?

"It doesn't mean she wants to hurt humans," Storm said softly.

"Mystique is not Magneto," Nightcrawler added. He was thinking about the kindness Mystique had shown him, and the ring she had given him that allowed him to walk the streets unharrassed. "There is more to her than hatred."

"I don't like it," Logan practically growled. He was already wavering in his decision to strike off on his own. "Someone should go after her."

"You don't have to like it," Gambit snapped, whirling around to finally look at his rival. He had been waiting for an opportunity to start a fight. "It's none of your business, is it?" Logan took a step forward, always happy to engage. Unable to resist, Jean reached out to both of them and calmed them down. Their postures relaxed, and they turned away from each other.

"Remy is right," Storm said, now that the atmosphere had calmed slightly. "It's Rogue's right to go where she chooses. There's nothing we can do about it." That settled the issue, and although nobody was happy about it, the group slowly dispersed. Mumbling a quick excuse to Scott, Jean went after Logan and followed him upstairs. He was on his way to the garage.

"You're leaving now?" she called to him, stopping him in the hallway. He turned around and waited for her to catch up.

"That was the plan." He was frustrated, worried and guilty over Rogue, but determined as ever to dig into his own past. Jean wished she could help him, but she could only see what was now, not what had been.

"I'll keep an eye on Rogue. Figuratively speaking."

"Thank you." They looked at each other for a quiet moment. Jean wanted to ask him not to leave, but she didn't have that right; not when she knew how much he was hurting for her. Besides, he wouldn't listen, anyway.

"Be careful," was what she settled for. She tried not to feel his disappointment.

"Why should I?" he smirked. "I'm friends with an all-powerful mutant. She'll take care of me if I run into trouble." She smiled.

"Logan—"

"Tell your fiancé I took his bike," he said, pointing at her as he moved away.

"He'll want to know why I didn't stop you," she called.

"Tell him I fought you off," Logan said over his shoulder, and then he was gone. Jean laughed to herself as she listened to the roar of his motorcycle fade away.

As the Earth and all life on it ebbed and flowed, so did the X-Men. Its members came and went, squabbled amongst themselves, but always banded together in crisis. And every year there would be new players, former students who would take up the cause temporarily or permanently. Logan and Rogue would come back; someone else would leave, but the X-Men would always be there. Always keeping watch.

Jean felt the energetic movements of the students in their classrooms, the serenity of Storm and Professor Xavier in conversation, the varied activities of all the mutants that made up the life of this school. They were doing good work, and their collective energy calmed Jean and filled her with contentment. She walked downstairs to the training room.

"Scott, set up the course, would you?" she urged him. "Let's try again."

**THE END**


End file.
